Dream or Reality? Part 1
by Dede42
Summary: Dom Cobb has been on the run for five years with his friends, Arthur and Emma, and now has a chance to return home to his children after pulling one more job that involves the debatably Inception. Will he take the risk to perform inception in order to return to his children or will it be his undoing and the undoing of his friends?
1. Chapter 1: Business

Inception: Dream or Reality? Part 1

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my new _Inception_ story, which will have some twists in it that I expect will surprise you guys. *smiles evilly*

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Inception_, _Batman,_ or _Doctor Who_. I only own the characters that I created.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: BUSINESS**

The faint light of dawn touched a sandy beach ringed with volcanic rocks, and had waves crashing onto it; as new waves rolled onto the beach, they tossed on to the wet sand a scruffy-looking man dressed in rumpled dark green clothes, and he lay there, gasping and choking on the salty water.

The shout and laughter of a child reached his ears and he lifted his head, where he saw a little blonde-haired boy, wearing blue clothes, was crouching, with his back toward the ocean, and was watching the tide eat away at a sandcastle. A blonde-haired girl, wearing a red dress, joined the boy, shoving some of her hair behind her ear. The man raised a hand slightly and tried to call to them, but they ran off with the girl screaming, and he passed out with the waves continuing to wash over him.

* * *

As the sun rose higher into the sky, a Japanese security guard approached the unconscious intruder and used the barrel of his rifle to poke the man's back; not getting a response, he then flipped up the back of the man's jacket and discovered a gun.

Concerned now, he removed the gun, rolled the man onto his back, and then called up the beach to a colleague, who was leaning against a jeep. Behind them was a cliff, and on top of that, was a Japanese castle.

* * *

Inside an elegant dining room, located within the castle, an elderly Japanese man was sitting at the dining table, eating as an attendant spoke to him in Japanese while the security guard from earlier waited in the doorway.

"/He was delirious,/" the attendant explained, referring to the intruder. "/But he asked for you by name. And…/" he nodded to the security guard. "/Show him./"

The security guard then entered the room and approached the table. "/He was carrying nothing but this…/" He placed the handgun on the table and the elderly man reached for a tall glass of red wine. "/…and this./" and he placed a small pewter top alongside the gun.

The elderly man paused for a moment and then picked up the top instead; he stared at it intensely for several seconds and then spoke to the attendant and the security guard. "/Bring him here,/" he ordered in a raspy voice. "/And some food./"

* * *

A short time later, the man was now seated at the opposite end of the table, having been half carried and half dragged in, and was eating a bowl full of rice; the elderly man watched him for several minutes, his wrinkled hand resting on the gun.

"Are you here to kill me?" he asked in perfect English and the man glanced up at him before returning his attention to his food, but there was a look of uncertainty in his eyes, almost as if he knew that he was there to do something important, but he couldn't remember what it was; the elderly man then picked up the top and rolled it between his fingers. "I know what this is," he said, placing it on the table, and started it spinning. "I've seen one before. Many, _many_ years ago…"

He stared at the top, mesmerized. "It belonged to a man I met in a half-remembered _dream_…" and the top continued spinning as the younger man looked up and stared at the top, too, almost as he was starting to remember something important. "A man possessed of some _radical_ notions…"

* * *

"What's the most resilient parasite?" asked Dominick "Dom" Cobb, a man, who was 35 years old with blonde hair that was slicked back, blue eyes, and was wearing a tailored dinner suit; he was seated at an long ebony stone table with a young Japanese businessman named Saito, who had black hair, dark eyes, and wore an unique dinner suit, a third man named Arthur Gordon, who had dark hair that was slicked back, dark eyes, and was also wearing a tailored dinner suit, and a woman named Emma Gordon, who had her dark hair done up in a bun, dark eyes, and was wearing a sleeveless black silk dress.

"A bacteria?" Cobb suggested as Saito ate and he gestured at their feast with his wine glass. "A virus? An intestinal worm?"

Saito paused in his eating, his fork hovering above the plate as an uneasy expression crossed his face; while Cobb smiled slightly, Arthur spoke up as he exchanged an exasperated look with his wife. _'Easy on the teasing, Cobb.'_ "What Mr. Cobb is trying to say-"

"An _idea_," Cobb interrupted and Saito looked at him, curious as he resumed eating. "Resilient, _highly_ contagious," he explained. "Once an idea's taken hold in the brain it's almost _impossible_ to eradicate. A person can cover it up, ignore it."

"But surely to forget…?" Saito suggested, sipping some of his wine now.

"Information, yes," Cobb confirmed, sipping his own drink. "But an _idea_? Fully formed, _understood_? That sticks…" he tapped his forehead. "In there, somewhere."

"For someone like you to steal?" Saito inquired.

"Yes," Arthur answered. "In the dream state, your conscious defenses are lowered and your thoughts become vulnerable to theft," he explained. "It's called extraction."

"But with subconscious security, you'll be able to protect your mind from someone attempting extraction," Emma added.

"And we, Mr. Saito, we can train your subconscious to defend itself from even the most _skilled_ extractor," Cobb said confidently.

Saito raised his eyebrows. "How can you do that?" he seemed skeptical, but it was also clear that he was interested, too.

"Because I _am_ the most skilled extractor," Cobb responded. "I know how to search your mind and find your secrets. I know the tricks, and I can teach them to your subconscious so that even when you're _asleep_, your guard is never down." He then leaned forward, locking eyes with the Japanese businessman. "But if I'm going to help you, you have to be _completely_ open to me," he added. "I'll need to know my way around your thoughts better than your wife, your analyst, _anyone_." He stood with his glass and gestured around the room, as there was a faint rumbling sound in the distance. "If this is a dream and you've got a safe full of secrets, I _need_ to know what's in that safe. For this to work, you _have_ to let me in completely."

A smile flickered across Saito's face as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin, glancing to the right slightly with his eyes, and then he stood up; behind him, a bodyguard opened a set of double doors, revealing a lavish party. "Gentlemen, lady," he said as Arthur and Emma also stood up. "Enjoy your evening while I consider your proposal." He then left and the doors were quickly closed behind him.

Worried, Arthur and Emma turned to Cobb, who was sipping his wine. "He knows." Just then there was a tremor that made the lamps in the ceiling shake and they steadied their glasses on the table.

Frowning, Arthur glanced upward. "What's going on up there?" he wondered, Emma also frowned, and Cobb checked his watch, where the second hand was _slowly_ moving-

* * *

-and then the second hand moved fast in Cobb's watch, who was sleeping in a chair that was on top of a cabinet that was next to a steaming bathtub, and the bottom of the chair legs were level with the rim of the tub; unlike in the dream, here he was wearing a cream-colored business outfit with a blue shirt, and his hands were clasped in front of him.

Outside, there were explosions going on, along with shouting, and the pounding of feet; a sweating man named Nash, who was wearing an open-collared blue shirt, jeans, and boots, winced as there was another distant explosion, the noise rumbling through the room. Worried, he went into the next room, which was a bedroom, and Saito, who was wearing a gray business outfit with a gray vest and a white shirt, was lying on the bed, fast asleep with two thin yellow tubes taped to his left wrist.

Nash checked the connection before moving to the nearby window and he parted the curtains. Outside was a chaotic city, and the street was filled with rioters, who were smashing and burning everything in sight, heading toward the building; swallowing, he returned to the bathroom and checked on Arthur, wearing a similar cream-colored business outfit, who was asleep in an armchair with a silver briefcase lying on a cabinet next to it, which had tubing traveling from it to the sleepers.

Nash then went to Emma, also wearing a cream-colored business outfit, only she had a skirt and heels, too, who was sleeping in a chair next to the door, her head resting against the doorframe and checked the tubes taped to her left wrist; he then went back to Cobb and checked the tubes attached to his left wrist as there were another explosion outside.

* * *

Down in the dream world, a low tremor rumbled through the castle, and Cobb, Emma, and Arthur, now outside, steadied themselves against the wooden railing; several tiles and pieces of masonry fell off the roof. Below them a black sea churned and other guests were wandering the massive terraces.

"Saito _knows_," insisted Arthur while Cobb sipped from a glass of lime-flavored water now. "He's playing with us."

"I agree," said Emma, shivering slightly in the wind, wishing she had a coat or something._ 'Whoever said that a person can't be cold in a dream clearly has never done this before.'_ "Saito is stringing us along."

"I can get it here," Cobb said confidently, ignoring their concerns. "The information's in the safe − he looked _right_ at it when I mentioned secrets."

Arthur and Emma nodded, having seen the same thing, and then they noticed something over their friend's shoulder. "What's _she_ doing here, Cobb?"

Wondering what it was that Arthur was asking, Cobb turned and saw a beautiful woman with lustrous dark hair that curled at her cheeks, gray-blue eyes, and was elegantly dressed with a black cloak wrapped around her off-shoulder black lacy gown, was staring out at the sea.

'_Not again.'_ "You both just get to your room," Cobb advised, ignoring their suspicious expressions. "I'll take care of the rest." And he headed toward the woman.

"See that you do," Arthur called after him, annoyed. "We're here to work." Shaking his head, he took Emma's hand, and they headed back inside.

"It's _never_ a good sign when _she_ shows up," Emma muttered and her husband agreed as another tremor rolled through the building, and both feared that the dream was going to collapse around their ears before they got the job done.

Cobb walked over to Mallorie "Mal" Cobb, who was now peering over the wooden railing at the water below, sipping his drink again.

"If I jumped, would I survive?" she asked with a strong French accent, glancing at her husband with an inquiring look.

Cobb also glanced over the railing at the water below. "With a clean dive, perhaps," he guessed and then sighed, facing his wife. "Mal, why are you here?" he asked, hoping that this wouldn't end up being a repeat of their last few jobs; nearly every time Mal showed up during a job, it blew up in their faces, and knowing Arthur and Emma, if it happen again, he would _never_ hear the end of it.

Mal turned to look at him, amused. "I thought you might be missing me," she told him, smiling.

"I am," said Cobb sadly. "But" he sighed "I can't trust you anymore."

Mal stared up at him, inviting. "So what?" she asked slyly.

* * *

Soon they were in a bedroom, where Mal was sipping champagne as she studied a painting by Francis Bacon. "Looks like Arthur's taste," she commented, turning to face her husband. "Or maybe Emma's since they have similar taste in artwork."

"Actually, Mr. Saito is partial to postwar British painters," Cobb corrected her while pulling on black glovers and peered through the window at the guards that were patrolling the outside of the castle along the shoreline; once he had the gloves on, he turned to his wife and gestured to a chair. "Would you sit down?"

Sighing, Mal lowered herself gracefully into a leather wingback chair; Cobb approached, pulling out a length of black rope and knelt at her feet, and she looked down at him. "Tell me," she requested as Cobb tied the rope around one of the chair legs. "Do the children miss me?"

Cobb paused and he let his gloved fingers lightly touch Mal's ankle, and he looked up at her. "You can't imagine," he whispered.

Mal looked away, uncomfortable and Cobb got to his feet, letting out the rope as he moved back to the window. "What're you doing?" she asked, looking back at him.

Instead of answering, Cobb opened the window and tossed the rope out. "Getting some air." He then tugged on the rope, testing it, and the weight of the chair, with Mal on it, held. "Stay seated, Mal," he requested, hoping that she would stay out of the way. "Please." And with that, he jumped backward out of the window, and Mal considered the open window, smiling slightly.

* * *

Moving quietly and quickly, Cobb rappelled down the wall, darting past windows, and then he stopped at a particular one, peered through the glass and then started to pull out a glass cutter-

_WHOOSH!_

'_What the-?!'_ Startled, Cobb suddenly felt himself dropping toward the beach below.

* * *

Back in the bedroom, the now empty chair slid across the floor and wedged itself under the window. Mal had disappeared completely.

* * *

Grunting, Cobb jolted to a stop 15 ft. lower and he looked up at the bedroom window. Shaking his head and muttering a curse, he started climbing back up to the window, got the glasscutter out, and quietly sliced through the glass.

* * *

Soon, Cobb dropped silently from the window into the darkened kitchen; he pulled a pistol from his belt, screwing a silencer onto the barrel as he glided across the room.

* * *

In their bedroom, Arthur and Emma were waiting for Cobb to arrive with proof that he'd been successful and so that they could get out of the dream and back to the world above; Emma was sitting on the bed and looked up toward the ceiling uneasily as there was another low rumbling sound.

Arthur was pacing and occasionally glanced at the door that lead out into the hallway, straining his ears for the sounds of footsteps; like his wife, he was worried about the unexpected arrival of Mal, and what it could mean for the success of their job. In the past few months, Mal had ended up appearing during a critical part of the job they were working, and it nearly always resulted in going horribly wrong.

"Arthur, how much longer do you think it'll take him?" Emma asked, breaking the silence and was fiddling with her wedding band, a gold ring made out of roses, nervously._ 'I wish I had my sketchbook, I _so_ need to sketch something right now.'_

"I'm sure it won't be much longer," Arthur said reassuringly, kneeling in front of his wife and clasping his hands over hers. "Cobb _is_ good at his job."

Emma returned the smile – just as the door was kicked in and Saito's security swarmed in, grabbing them both before they could react, and then dragged them back out into the hallway, ignoring their struggles, questions, and protests.

This _so_ wasn't a good sign!

* * *

A/N: And I end this on a cliffy to torture you all! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Also, Happy Easter! R&R everyone!


	2. Chapter 2: THE DREAM'S COLLASPING!

Inception: Dreams or Reality? Part 1

A/N: I return with a new chapter and thank you to the ones who have favorite this story and are follow it! Please do leave some reviews to let me know what you think of the story so far. Please?

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Inception_, _Batman,_ or _Doctor Who_. I only own the characters that I created.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: "THE DREAM'S COLLASPING!"**

Unaware that his friends had been captured, Cobb slipped through the shadows towards a guard that was stationed at the base of a grand staircase, having already taken out the guard near the head of the stairs; moving silently down the stairs, he aimed the gun with one hand and held his other hand above it as he shot the guard in the back of the head, catching the spent shell and pocketing it.

As the guard started to drop Cobb was already there to catch him, sliding on his knees and lowering the guard silently to the floor.

* * *

Returning to the dining room, Cobb silently closed the doors behind him, removed his gloves, and then headed over to a concealed door; he slid the door aside, revealing a safe. With much practice, he spun the dial a few times until it clicked, pulled it open, grabbed an envelope from within, and stuffed it into his waistband, where there was already an identical envelope waiting.

Removing it, Cobb unfolded it and was about to place it inside the safe when the lights suddenly came on and he froze._ 'Oh shit!'_

"Turn around," ordered Saito's voice.

Turning to face the front of the room, Cobb had his gun out, and his heart ached when he saw that Saito wasn't alone, and that Mal was standing next to him, with a gun in her hand._ 'Oh for the love of-!'_

Mal smiled coldly at her husband as he backed slowly toward the edge of the table, his gun trained on her. "The gun, Dom," she requested, but when he didn't lower it, she nodded slightly toward the entrance behind her, and four guards dragged the struggling Arthur and Emma into the room.

Mal then pointed the gun at Arthur's head, ignoring the glares that both he and Emma were shooting at her. "Please."

Cobb hesitated, glancing at his friends, who were shaking their heads slightly, and then he slowly placed his gun at his end of the long table and pushed it so that it slid along the polished ebony so that it came to rest halfway down the length or the table.

"Now the envelope, Mr. Cobb," Saito ordered.

Cobb held up the envelope in his hand. "Did _she_ tell you?" he asked. "Or have you known all along?" he added while setting down the envelope, slid it across the table, and then he straightened up, his hands raised as he took a step backward.

"That you're here to steal from me?" Saito asked, taking a step forward. "Or that we're _actually_ asleep?"

Hearing this both Arthur and Emma gave Cobb identical "I-told-you-so" looks, and Cobb repressed an sigh, knowing full well that if they got out of this alive, he wasn't going to hear the end of it.

"I _want_ to know who your employer is," Saito demanded and Mal cocked the gun at Arthur's temple, and the couple just kept their expressions blank, refusing to say a word.

"Ah," said Cobb with a knowing smirk. "No point threatening them in a dream. Right, Mal?"

"That depends on what you're threatening," Mal countered as Arthur and Emma exchanged questioning looks of what their friend was trying to do since Mal already knew what would happen to the dream if the dreamer were to die. "Killing them would just wake them up," she agreed as the couple looked coldly back at her, "but pain?"

She then lowered the gun and shot first Arthur and then Emma both in the right legs, making them scream as they nearly collapsed toward the floor, being held up by the guards, and even Cobb winced at the sound. "Pain is in the mind," she continued, walking past the gasping couple while throwing her husband a cold look. "And, judging by the decor, we're in _your_ mind, aren't we, Arthur?" she asked, cocking the gun again. "Or maybe even in _your_ mind, Emma? It's _so_ hard to tell sometimes."

Cobb watched, eyes narrowed as Mal aimed at Arthur's other leg – suddenly he launched himself at the tabletop, skidded along its polished surface, he grabbed his gun, and shot both Arthur and Emma between the eyes; grunting they both dropped and the room started to shudder as it was hit with a _massive_ earthquake.

Leaving his friends dead on the floor, Cobb sprang for the door as the room began collapsing-

* * *

Nash jumped when both Arthur and Emma suddenly woke up within seconds of each other, with phantom pain in their legs and heads, and, after taking a few seconds to get their bearings they removed the tubes from their wrists as they stood up.

"What're you doing?!" Nash yelped as Arthur grabbed the briefcase and headed for the bedroom while pulling out more tubing so that he didn't accidentally yank Cobb off the chair too soon, and Emma followed, rolling up their tubing. "It's too soon!" and he followed them, scared.

"I know!" Arthur snapped, heading into the bedroom, where Saito was beginning to stir. "We have to reconnect the loop before they wake up!"

"Cobb's close," Emma told Nash. "We just need to give him a little more time." _'Damn you, Mal! _Why_ did you _have_ to show up?!'_

* * *

Back in the dream world, Cobb shot and killed the guards chasing him, at least the ones that didn't end up being crushed by the crumbling ceiling, and he headed towards the stairs, as all around him the building bucked and heaved.

* * *

In the dining room, Saito was clinging to the table, which was now being covered by dust and debris from the crumbling ceiling while Mal walked calmly through the destruction, picked up the envelope, and turned to Saito, handing it to him.

"He was close," she commented softly. "_Very_ close."

* * *

Reaching the stairs, Cobb ran up a level, ducked behind the nearest pillar, pulled out the envelope, and he began opening it while the building continued to fall apart.

* * *

Back in the dining room, Saito ripped open the envelope, pulled out several sheets of paper, and stared at them, horrified; he looked at Mal, and then he turned to the remaining guards, enraged. "Stop him!" and threw the papers to the floor.

Mal, confused, looked down at the sheets of paper and saw that they were blank; she smiled, amused._ 'Very good, Dom, _very_ good.'_

* * *

On the stairs, Cobb pulled out the papers and began reading them quickly, when the guards caught up and began shooting; firing back with his own gun, killing two of them, he bolted up the stairs, clutching the papers.

* * *

Meanwhile, Arthur and Emma both knelt on the floor in front of the bed and he opened the silver case, revealing a complex mechanism of tubes, syringes, dosage controllers, and several timers, two of which were still counting down; while Emma put away their tubing, Arthur's hands flew across the machine's controls as he glanced at Saito's stirring face.

"I'm not going to make it!" he growled and looked over his shoulder at Nash, who was hovering in the doorway. "Wake Cobb!"

"I hope Cobb was able to get the information," Emma muttered, now helping her husband with the controls.

"Same here."

* * *

Panicking, Nash turned to Cobb and began shaking him; when that didn't work, he raised his hand and smacked him across the face-

* * *

On the stairs in the dream world, Cobb yelped when the force of the smack, now doubled, knocked him down to the ground, just as pieces of the ceiling dropped to the stairs, narrowly missing him, and the two remaining guards that were giving chase, were instantly killed.

* * *

In the dining room, Saito was still clinging to the table while Mal just walked toward the doorway, unconcerned by the destruction around her; hearing a loud crackling directly above him, Saito looked up, just as a ton of stone and mortar crashed down, crushing him.

* * *

Waking up in the bedroom, Saito saw Arthur and Emma and, silently, reached for something under his pillow, his eyes narrowed to the point that they were slits so that it would continue to look that he was asleep.

* * *

In the bathroom, Nash continued trying to wake Cobb up, and then called out to the bedroom, frustrated as he slapped the younger man across the face again. "He won't wake!"

* * *

"Give him the kick!" Arthur ordered, still working the controls while unaware that Saito was awake.

_`"What?"`_ Nash asked from the bathroom, clearly not understanding.

"Dunk him!" Emma called over her shoulder.

As she returned her attention to the controls, there was a clicking sound, and both she and Arthur looked up, staring into the barrel of Saito's gun, and the Japanese man put a finger to his own lips, insisting that they be quiet.

They instantly froze. Caught again!

* * *

Completely unaware of what was going on in the bedroom, Nash put his hand on Cobb's forehead and pushed him, and both Cobb and the chair started to fall backwards toward the water-filled tub.

* * *

Down in the collapsing dream, Cobb picked himself up and resumed reading the remaining papers; when he reached the last page, he stared at it puzzled._ 'What on Earth-?'_

* * *

Almost like it was in slow motion, Cobb and the chair collided with the steaming water inside the tub.

* * *

Suddenly becoming aware of a falling sensation, Cobb looked up from the paper as water exploded in through all the windows, flooding the entire hall; bracing himself and squeezing his eyes shut, he was swamped by the water, spun in all directions at once as he was pulled deeper into the depths-

* * *

Thrashing about, Cobb grabbed at the sides of the tub and pulled himself up to the surface, gasping for air, and tried to get his bearings.

Sneaking out of the bedroom and coming up behind Nash, Saito smashed the gun into the back of his head, stunning him; catching the older man, he turned around, aiming the gun at Arthur and Emma, who were now in the doorway, their hands raised, and it was clear that they'd hoped to stop him. Seeing all of this, Cobb launched himself out of the tub, tackled Saito to the floor, where they struggled while Nash recovered and elbowed the Japanese man in the face, and he went limp.

"He's out," Cobb announced as Nash grabbed the gun, and they both stood up, breathing hard; they then grabbed the unconscious man, hauled him up, and they carried him back into the bedroom while Arthur and Emma finished packing up the remaining tubing and the machine. They still had work to do.

* * *

Outside, the rioters were drawing closer, and one of them jumped onto a car, shouting something in Spanish, and began pounding the roof with his club.

* * *

Cobb, wet but composed, was sitting in a chair, and was turning Saito's gun in his hands; Saito was seated in a chair across from him, once again conscious, and was scowling. Both Emma and Arthur were standing near a window, watching the progress of the rioters, and Nash was standing near Cobb with his arms crossed, and was still worried.

"You came prepared," Cobb remarked.

"I bring the gun because not even my head of security knows of this apartment," Saito answered, clearly annoyed. "How did _you_ find it?"

Cobb smirked. "Hard for a man in your position to keep a love nest like this totally secret," he explained, "particularly when there's a married woman involved."

Saito didn't believe him. "She would never-"

"And yet, here we are," Cobb cut in, and Saito fumed. "With a dilemma."

Saito looked away as the shouting and explosions drew closer. "You got what you came for, now _leave_."

"Not quite," said Cobb, leaning forward slightly. "The key piece of information wasn't there, was it, Mr. Saito?" for back down in the dream, he'd discovered that the last page had large sections of writing blacked out – almost as if it had been deliberately removed.

"They're getting closer, Cobb," Arthur said warningly, and Nash winced at another explosion that was _a lot_ closer then all of the others. They were running out of time-

* * *

On a bullet train traveling at a high speed through the Japanese countryside, Nash, deeply asleep, rocked slightly in his seat, and was wearing a faded blue business outfit; sleeping next to him were Arthur and Emma, and across from them, also asleep, were Cobb and Saito, and they were all dressed in the same outfits, only in dark colors, as in what was obviously a second dream, only Saito didn't have his jacket on. Sitting across from Nash was a teenage boy named Todashi, who checked his watch as a second train zoomed past them in the opposite direction, making the car rock again.

Noting the time, Todashi reached into his backpack and pulled out headphones and a MP3 player; leaning forward, he slipped the headphones over Nash's ears, and then knelt down in front of a familiar case; he opened it and checked the timers, which were counting down to thirty seconds.

* * *

Down in the dream world, Saito was refusing to reveal what he'd hidden from them, and the rioters were getting even closer.

"You held something back because you _knew_ what we were up to," Cobb pointed out, handling the gun in one hand while Emma and Arthur exchanged uneasy looks. "So why let us in at all?" he asked.

Saito smirked. "An audition."

Cobb, Nash, Emma, and Arthur exchanged confused looks. An _audition_? "Audition for what?"

"It doesn't matter," Saito stated, disappointed. "You _failed_."

Cobb shook his head. "I extracted _all_ the information you had in there."

"But your deception was readily apparent," Saito retorted, and Arthur and Emma once again shot "I-told-you-so" looks at Cobb as it became more apparent that the job was a bust and that they were screwed.

* * *

Meanwhile, Todashi noted just how much time was left on the timers, turned to Nash as the first counter hit "30", and he hit "play" on the MP3 player; soon the opening bars of Edith Piaf's "Non, je ne regrette rien," began to play, and Nash slowly began to stir.

* * *

Down below, Nash's eyes widened slightly as the music began echoing around the room, and it became apparent that Arthur, Emma, and Cobb could hear the music, too as they exchanged brief looks of understanding. They were down to seconds.

Saito was the only one who couldn't hear it, and he was too busy with arguing with Cobb to notice their reactions. "So leave me and _go_."

Cobb shook his head again, he needed to finish this and fast. "You know the corporation who hired us won't accept failure," he countered. "We won't last _two days_."_ 'Especially not against the type of people they can hire…the same ones that brought us to them in the first place.'_

Arthur looked out the window and saw the rioters heading inside, and he gestured to Cobb. "Come on, Cobb."

"Hurry up," Emma added as the sounds of the rioters on the stairs could now be heard._ 'We are _so_ screwed.'_

Nodding, Cobb stood, gripping the gun in his hand. "So now I have to do this the old-fashioned way-" he grabbed Saito, threw him onto the carpet, and aimed the gun at his head. "Tell us what you know!" he shouted. "Tell us _now_!"

Saito started to push himself up when he realized something about the carpet he was lying on, and laughed instead as he ran his fingers through the fibers, confusing the group. "I've always _hated_ this carpet," he informed them, and Cobb briefly glanced at the carpet, wondering what the Japanese businessman was talking about. "It's stained and frayed in such distinctive ways…"

Cobb now looked at Nash, who shrugged, clearly at a loss as to what the businessman was talking about.

"But very definitely made of _wool_," Saito explained, still running his fingers through the fibers, examining the texture. "Right now I'm lying on polyester."

Now Cobb was glaring at Nash, who shook his head, refusing to admit that he'd screwed up on such a simple detail.

Saito pushed himself up onto his elbow, realization dawning on his face. "Which means I'm not lying on my carpet, in my apartment…" he smiled. "You've lived up to your reputation, Mr. Cobb…I'm still _dreaming_."

* * *

On the train, Todashi watched as one of the counters hit zero, triggering an alarm, and he glanced at Arthur, who was now stirring-

* * *

Down in the dream world, Cobb glanced toward the window and saw that Arthur had disappeared, and Emma was glaring at Nash as the sounds of the rioters on the stairs drew closer and closer. They were _definitely_ out of time.

* * *

Arthur's eyes flickered open as he woke up and quickly removed the tubes from his wrist.

"How'd it go?" Todashi asked, as Arthur stood up, moving with the motion of the train.

"Not good," Arthur answered, annoyed as he nudged the teen out of the way and crouched down next to the case to check the remaining three countdowns as the second counter hit zero, and Emma woke up, wincing slightly as she removed the tubes, handing them to her husband, as the third counter moved closer to zero and the alarm continued beeping.

* * *

Back in the dream world, Saito got to his feet, looking admiringly at Cobb. "A dream within a dream," he commented, "I'm impressed."

Defeated and aware that Emma had disappeared, Cobb lowered the gun as the music continued playing and the rioters were now pounding on the door, trying to get inside.

"But in my dream, we really ought to be playing by my rules," Saito pointed out, no longer smiling.

Nash suddenly smirked. "Ah, yes, but you see, Mr. Saito-" and Saito turned to him, curious.

"We're not in your dream-" Cobb added, and Saito turned back in his direction, only to see that he too had vanished.

"We're in mine," Nash concluded and Saito faced him, stunned as the door was smashed open and the rioters swarmed in surrounding and grabbing Nash.

* * *

In the real world, Cobb opened his eyes, blinked, and then pinched the bridge of his nose, also wincing a bit as the alarm beeped faster now.

* * *

Down in the dream, Saito could only watched as the rioters tore at Nash, who yelled before disappearing right before the Japanese businessman's eyes, and the dream started to fade.

* * *

Nash snapped awake and yanked the headphones off his head, shaken by all that'd happen down in the dream.

"Asshole!" Arthur snapped as Emma helped him with the machine. "How could you get the carpet wrong?!"

"It wasn't my fault," Nash protested, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

"_You're_ the architect," Arthur growled.

"And _as_ the architect, you _never_ skimp on the details if you _expect_ the subject to not realize that they're in a dream!" Emma snapped, furious.

"I didn't know he was going to rub his damn cheek on it!" Nash shot back, glaring at the couple.

"Let it go," Cobb ordered as he checked Saito's pulse, hoping that they could get out of there before the sedative wore off and the businessman woke up.

Arthur glared up at his friend. "And you, what the _hell_ was all that?"

"I had it under control," Cobb muttered.

Arthur and Emma exchanged skeptical looks. "I'd hate to see out of control."

"There's no time for this," Cobb grumbled angrily, removing the tubes from his wrist and handing them to Emma. "I'm getting off at Kyoto." And stood up, reaching for his bag that was on the baggage rack.

"Why?" Arthur asked, surprised. "He's not gonna search every compartment."

Cobb shrugged and pulled his bag down. "I can't stand trains."

Shaking his head, Arthur turned a dial on the machine. "I can keep him under for _at least_ three more minutes." And he pushed a button, causing a plunger to depressurize, sending a fresh dosage of sedative through the tubes and into the Japanese man's wrist, keeping him asleep a bit longer.

Ripping off the tape, Cobb removed and rolled up the tubes, handing them to Emma, who put them into the silver case, and Arthur shut the lid, locking it up as Emma retrieved their bags and Nash snatched up his own bag.

Cobb pulled out a thick roll of cash as Todashi pulled open the door and tossed it to the teen. "Every man for himself." And then headed out into the corridor; shoving the case into one of the bags, Arthur and Emma exited the compartment next, heading in the opposite direction, and Nash left, slipping into a car halfway down the train.

* * *

A few minutes later, Saito slowly woke up and noted that the car was empty saved for himself and Todashi, who was reading a comic book and was looking for all the world that nothing strange had been going on around him; he looked down at his wrist, moving to sleeve slightly to reveal a small mark.

Smiling slightly, he settled back in his seat as the train continued speeding through the countryside._ 'Yes, Mr. Cobb _does_ live up to his reputation indeed.'_ And he began planning his next move to find the young man and his friends again, knowing that they were the ones who could get what he wanted done.

* * *

A/N: And this ends the chapter until next time. R&R everyone!


	3. Chapter 3: A NEW JOB OFFER

Inception: Dreams or Reality? Part 1

A/N: I return once more and this has been a crazy week at work, and I'm about ready to drop. _

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Inception_, _Batman,_ or _Doctor Who_. I only own the characters that I created.

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: A NEW JOB OFFER**

It was nighttime in Tokyo and a helicopter flew over the city toward a landing pad on a high-rise apartment.

* * *

Inside the building, Emma was washing her face in the sink of the rooms she and Arthur were renting, and they were getting ready to leave; once she was done, she dried her face with a towel and peered into the mirror, examining her appearance. The good news that her headache had faded, along with the phantom pain in her leg, but she couldn't chase away the uneasy feeling that they weren't out of the woods just yet; what did Saito mean when he said that it was an audition? An audition for _what_ exactly?

'_We were_ so_ close,'_ Emma thought sourly, tossing the towel into the hamper and then headed out into the living room, where Arthur was making sure that they had everything packed up, and she pulled on a shirt over her black tank top. "So, do we have everything?"

"I think so," Arthur responded, zipping up his bag and turned to his wife. "How're you feeling, honey?"

Emma sighed, buttoning up her shirt. "Well, my headache is fading, but those dreams-within-a-dreams keep doing my head in." And rolled her eyes when he chuckled. "Sure, laugh it up."

Arthur just smiled and pulled her close, getting a small protest about wrinkling her shirt. "It's just a shirt, silly," he teased, kissing her on the lips. "Besides, you don't complain when you're working on your parents' farm," he added as she rolled her eyes again.

"You know, if I didn't love you _so much_ I would smack you right now, Mr. Gordon," Emma retorted, but she was smiling and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"And I love you, too Mrs. Gordon," Arthur responded, nuzzling her neck – just then the phone rang and they both sighed, the moment gone; pulling away he went to answer it while Emma finished up with her shirt, slipped a long silver chain with a raindrop-shaped diamond pendent over her head, and pulled her shoes on. "Hello? Okay."

"Who was it?" Emma asked as he put the phone down.

"Our ride's here," Arthur informed her as he picked up his brown coat and pulled it on. "Time to go."

Emma nodded, pulling on her own coat. "Right, we better get Cobb and Nash."

Arthur agreed, collected their bags, and they headed out.

* * *

In a different part of the same building, Cobb, now wearing causal blue clothing, was seated in a chair in the living room, waiting, and he checked his watch, feeling restless. Deciding something, he pulled out a handgun, checked it was loaded, and he placed it on the table in front of him. He then pulled out a familiar-looking pewter top, and spun it on the table.

Watching the spinning top intently, Cobb picked up the gun, cocked it, and held it near his head; after a few seconds, the top began wobbling, and it then tipped over. Letting out the breath he was holding, he shut his eyes and set the gun back down on the table, proving once again that he was still in the real world and wasn't dreaming…this time.

Just then the phone started ringing and Cobb picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

_`"__Hi, Daddy!"`_ said a girl's voice.

_`"Hi, Dad__!"`_ said a boy's voice.

Cobb smiled when he heard his children voices, guessing it was probably afternoon back in the states. "Hey, guys," he said, closing his eyes, visualizing the last time he'd got to see his kids. "How are you?"

_`"__Good."`_

_`"Okay, I guess__."`_

"Who's just okay?" Cobb asked, standing up and walked around, carrying the phone cradle in one hand, visualizing his son. "Is that you, James?"

_`"__Yeah,"`_ James answered._ `"When are you coming home__?"`_

Cobb sighed, wishing that he _could_ go home and be with his kids again. "I can't," he answered. "Not for a while."

_`"Why?"`_ James asked.

Cobb couldn't help but smile at his son being curious, especially since it reminded him so much of himself at that age. "Well, James, like I've told you, I'm away because I'm working," he explained gently.

_`"__Grandma says you're never coming back__,"`_ said the girl, Philippa.

Cobb grimaced, hating his mother-in-law at that moment for putting the idea in his kids' heads. "Philippa, can you ask Grandma to pick up the phone?" he requested, wanting to talk some sense into the older woman.

_`"__She's shaking her head__,"`_ Philippa informed him.

'_Damn that woman!'_ Cobb tensed and tightened his grip on the phone as he sat back down in the chair, resisting the impulse to smash it into the table. "Well, we'll just have to hope Grandma's wrong about that won't we?" he suggested.

_`"Daddy?"`_

"Yes, James?" Cobb asked.

_`"Is mommy with you?"`_ James asked.

Unbidden, the memory of Mal, with the wind blowing through her hair, and smiling calmly at him, flashed through his mind, and he shivered. "No," he answered, wishing that she was. "No, we talked about this, James. Mommy's gone."

_`"Where?"`_ James asked.

Before Cobb could answer, Mal's mother, Marie Miles, spoke up with her thick French accent. _`"__Time to go, kids. Say bye-bye__."`_

"I'll give some presents to Grandpa to bring to you, okay?" Cobb said quickly. "Just be good for-" and sighed when all he heard was dial-tone; frustrated, he put the phone down, downed the drink he'd poured earlier and hadn't touched, and then slumped back in his chair, dejected.

Just then there was a knock at the door, grabbing the gun, Cobb stood and went to the door; peering through the eyepiece, he opened it partway to reveal both Arthur and Emma on the other side, their bags swung over their shoulders.

"Our ride's on the roof," Arthur informed him.

Nodding, Cobb let them in and headed back into the living room; Arthur shut the door and both he and Emma followed their friend, just in time to see him pick up the top and pocketed it, and it wasn't hard for them to guess what he'd been doing prior to their arrival.

"Cobb, are you okay?" Arthur asked, watching his friend as he stuffed his gun into his bag and zipped it up.

"Yeah, why?" Cobb asked, glancing up as he grabbed his coat.

Arthur shrugged. "Down in the dream…Mal showing up like that…"

Cobb understood what his friend was trying to say and nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "Look, I'm sorry about your legs."

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Emma asked, concerned.

Cobb ignored the question. "One apology's all you're getting, Arthur, Emma," he lectured, pulling his coat on. "Now, where's Nash?" he asked, surprised that the older man hadn't arrived with them.

"Hasn't shown," Arthur answered, concerned as well since Nash hadn't been in his rooms when they checked earlier. "Wanna wait?"

Cobb shook his head and swung his bag over his shoulder as he headed for the door and the couple followed. "We were supposed to deliver Saito's expansion plans to Cobol Engineering two hours ago," he stated, pulling the door open. "By now they know we failed. Time to disappear."

Agreeing, Arthur and Emma headed out, and Cobb followed, shutting and locking the door behind him, leaving the key in the lock.

* * *

Taking the elevator to the roof, they climbed a flight of stairs to reach the area with the helipad.

"Where will you go?" Arthur asked, checking his watch as they headed across the roof for the waiting helicopter.

"Buenos Aires," Cobb answered. "I can lie low there. Maybe sniff out a job when things quiet down. You two?"

"Stateside," Arthur responded.

"Going to see my parents," Emma added.

Cobb smiled wistfully, wishing he could go with them. "'Course. Send my regards," he requested and the couple nodded, fully understanding.

"We will."

Waiting for them was a white helicopter, and as they drew closer to the door, a waiting Japanese man pulled the door open, and the trio froze when they saw Nash, bloody and beaten, slumped in the far seat, and seated across from him was Saito, who nodded politely at their startled expressions.

"He sold you out," he explained with an air of disappointment. "Thought to come to me and bargain for his life." And nodded to the guard, who held out a gun to Cobb. "So I offer _you_ the satisfaction."

Cobb shook his head, knowing full well of what the Japanese businessman was offering. "That's not how I deal with things."

Saito was impressed by his refusal. "Would you work with him again?" he asked and when Cobb shook his head again, he rapped on the side of the chopper, and the pilot started the engine and the rotors as a second bodyguard opened the other door, and dragged Nash out; the businessman then gestured to the trio to board.

Having no choice, they climbed aboard and seated themselves down across from Saito as they rose into the air; through the window, they watched as the guards dragged a struggling Nash across the pad and toward the stairs, panic spreading across his battered face.

"What will you do to him?" Cobb asked, partly concerned for the older man. True he'd screwed up on the dream and had betrayed them, but he had been a pretty good architect, too.

"Nothing," Saito answered, looking out the window. "But I can't speak for your friends from Cobol Engineering."

Hearing this, Arthur and Emma shot concern looks with Cobb, who was looking equally worried of what would happen if and when Cobol caught up with them, and from the way that Saito was talking, it was probably going to be soon, unless they got out of the country first.

* * *

As they few over the city, Cobb was curious as to why Saito had sought them out after they had tried to extract his plans from him. "What do you want from us?"

"Inception," Saito answered, getting raised eyebrows from Arthur and Emma, while Cobb kept his face blank, but it was clear that his mind was reeling upon hearing the word. "Is it possible?"

"Of course not," Arthur scoffed.

Saito didn't believe him. "If you can steal an idea from someone's mind, why can't you plant one there instead?" he asked, clearly intent on wanting inception.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but decided to human the Japanese businessman. "Okay, here's me planting an idea: I say to you, "Don't think about elephants"," he suggested and Saito nodded. "What are you thinking about?"

"Elephants," Saito answered, realizing he'd done the opposite of what Arthur had suggested.

"Right," Arthur confirmed. "But it's not your idea because you know I gave it to you."

Saito still didn't look convinced. "You could plant it subconsciously-"

Emma shook her head. "The subject's mind can _always_ trace the genesis of the idea," she countered. "True inspiration is _impossible_ to fake, which also makes inception impossible, too."

"No, it isn't," said Cobb, staring out the nearest window and ignoring the curious looks that Arthur and Emma were exchanging behind him.

"Can you do it?" Saito asked, looking at the blonde-haired man.

Cobb shook his head. "I won't do it."

"In exchange, I'll give you the information you were paid to steal," Saito offered, hoping to get through to him.

"Are you giving me a choice?" Cobb asked. "Because I can find my own way to square things with Cobol."

Saito nodded. "Then you do have a choice."

"Then I chose to _leave_, sir," Cobb stated and looked away.

* * *

It wasn't long until the helicopter landed at a airstrip located somewhere outside the city limits and there was a private jet wanting for them; Saito nodded to the waiting jet. "Tell the crew where you want to go, they'll file the plan en route." He waited as Arthur, Emma, and Cobb grabbed their bags and got out of the chopper before he played his trump card.

"Mr. Cobb? There is one other thing I could offer you," said Saito, watching as Cobb stopped to listen, and even the couple paused, too. "How would you like to go home?" he asked. "To America. To your children?"

Cobb turned to face him with barely control anger that this man would even _offer_ him something that would build up false hope. "You can't fix that," he protested. "Nobody could."

Saito smirked. "Just like inception."

Cobb considered that and this worried his friends, and Arthur touched his arm to get his attention.

"Cobb, come on-" he began.

"How complex is the idea?" Cobb asked, ignoring his friend.

"Simple enough," Saito answered vaguely.

Cobb didn't believe that. "No idea's simple when you have to plant it in someone else's mind," he pointed out.

"Cobb this is a _bad_ idea," Emma hissed, but Cobb waved her off.

"My main competitor is an old man in poor health," Saito explained. "His son will soon inherit control of the corporation. I _need_ him to decide to break up his father's empire. Against his own self interest."

"Cobb, we should walk away from this," Arthur insisted, not liking where this was heading.

Cobb shushed him and returned his attention to the Japanese businessman. "If I were to do it. If I _could_ do it…how do I know you can deliver?" he asked, feeling the hope grow inside him.

"You don't," said Saito. "But I _can_. So do you want to take a leap of faith, or become an old man, filled with regret, waiting to die alone?" he then smiled when Cobb, after a few seconds, nodded slightly, and he beamed while Arthur and Emma both groaned and shook their heads. "Assemble your team, Mr. Cobb," he advised. "And choose your people more wisely."

And the chopper returned to the air, Cobb, Arthur, and Emma headed for the jet.

* * *

Elsewhere and on the grounds of a fancy estate, a man with graying brown hair, a graying brown beard, icy blue eyes, and was dressed in a well-cut gray suit and tie, was watching as a large number of men, all wearing black ninja-like outfits, practiced fighting each other on the large back lawn; he was only known as Henri Ducard, and he served the mysterious Ra's Al Ghul, the leader of the League of Shadows, also known as the League of Assassins, an organization created to fight injustice throughout the world and restore balance to places that have, apparently, reached the point of being decadent.

He turned his head slightly when one of the ninjas approached him and bowed respectfully. "Yes?"

"Sire, I have received word that Cobb and the Gordon's have failed the job given to them by Cobol Engineering," the ninja reported, "and Cobol is requesting that we hunt them down."

Henri shook his head. "Please inform Cobol Engineering that we do not work for them any longer, and that if they persist, then Ra's Al Ghul himself will pay their families a visit during the night," he instructed, mildly annoyed that the owners of Cobol Engineering thought they could control the League of Shadows. "Anything else?"

"Yes, sire," said the ninja. "Saito has located Cobb and the Gordon's, and they are currently heading to Paris, France to do the inception job for him."

This made Henri smile with approval. "Very good, keep everyone involved with the forthcoming job under a close watch; we don't want any of them slipping through our fingers just yet."

"Of course, sire," said the ninja, bowing again, and disappeared without a sound.

Still smiling, Henri turned and went inside the manor; he then went up several flights of stairs to a study, crossed to the large bay window, and examined a framed drawing on a slightly yellowed napkin, the drawing was done in blue ink and looked like a pepper shaker with three sticks sticking out at different spots, and there were two other framed drawings: a blue box and a humanoid cheetah. "No, we don't want you slipping out of our grasp just yet, dream child, not while our real target still breathes."

* * *

A/N: Yep, the League of Shadows is still keeping tabs on our heroes, and I challenge you to figure out what those drawing are. R&R everyone!


	4. Chapter 4: COBB'S REQUEST

Inception: Dreams or Reality? Part 1

A/N: I almost didn't get to post this today since an power outage last night here in Happy Valley, Utah knocked out the WiFi, and it finally returned a few hours ago. Any how, here's the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy it.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Inception_, _Batman,_ or _Doctor Who_. I only own the characters that I created.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: COBB'S REQUEST**

Some time later, they were on the jet leaving Japan; inside, Cobb was reclining in his chair across a table from Arthur, who was picking at his salad angrily, and Emma, who was refusing to look at their friend, her eyes fixed on her food.

"Look, I know how much you want to go home-" Arthur began, breaking the silence.

"No, you don't," Cobb said sharply, earning a warning look from Emma.

"But this can't be done," Arthur continued, refusing to be cut off.

"It _can_," Cobb insisted. "You just have to go deep enough."

Arthur shook his head, refusing to believe that it was possible since it'd never been done. "You don't know that."

"I've _done it_ before," Cobb announced, and his friends were taken aback by this news. Inception _was_ possible?

"You have?" Emma asked, surprised and Cobb nodded. "Whoa…"

"Did it work?" Arthur asked, forehead furrowed.

"Yes," Cobb answered quietly and there was obvious guilt in his voice.

"Who did you do it to?" Arthur pressed, but Cobb ignored the question, and after a few seconds, he shrugged, letting it go…for now.

"So why are we headed to Paris?" Emma asked.

"We're going to need a new architect," Cobb responded, lifting up the shade on his window to peer out. "Hopefully one who won't skimp on the details like Nash did, and won't betray us either."

"Here's hoping," Emma muttered, and Arthur agreed, neither of them wanted to imagine what was being done to the older man by Cobol right now.

* * *

A few days later, they arrived in Paris, France, and Cobb, carrying a bag of stuff toys he'd gotten from a local toy shop, headed directly to Ecole D'Architecture, the very college that he and Mal had attended when they first met years before, and the same college that had brought Emma and Arthur together.

* * *

Walking through the hallways, Cobb soon reached a lecture hall and peered inside before entering; seated at a desk at the bottom with chalkboard filled with information behind him, was a rumpled professor with receding white hair, blue eyes, and he was hunched over a bunch of papers that he was reading and grading.

'_Some things_ never_ change,'_ Cobb thought with a small smile as he seated himself in one of the wooden rows, peering down at his father-in-law; it was well-known around the campus that Professor Stephen Miles _hated_ his office and preferred to work in the lecture hall that he taught in, and Miles had been heard to say more then once that the day he was to use that office, was the day he would _finally_ retire.

"You never did like your office," he commented, finally getting his father-in-law's attention.

Miles looked up, squinted, and then recognized his son-in-law. "No space to think in that broom cupboard," he stated as Cobb made his way down the stairs. "Is it safe for you to be here?" he asked, hoping that no one had managed to ID his son-in-law…yet.

"Extradition between France and the U.S. is a bureaucratic nightmare," Cobb pointed out, reaching the floor.

Miles grimly smiled at the running joke between them. "I think they'd find a way to make it work in your case."

Cobb didn't doubt that for a second and then set the shopping bag on a clear spot on the desk. "Can you take these back for the kids?" he requested.

Miles frowned, wishing that things were different. "It'll take more than the occasional stuffed animal to convince those children they still have a father."

"I know," Cobb admitted wistfully. "I thought you could talk to Marie about bringing them on vacation. Somewhere I could meet-"

"Why would she listen to me?" Miles asked, thinking of how his estranged wife would react at the request; after all that'd happen, they were now going through the motions of a divorce for the past five years, without very much progress…yet.

"You were married for twenty years," Cobb reminded him.

Miles sighed. "She blames me as much as you."

Cobb felt his temper flare at the thought of just how unfair Marie was being to them both, because of what'd happen to Mal. "Doesn't she understand that my kids need me?" he asked, reining in his temper.

"Yes, she does," Miles confirmed. "We _all_ do. Go back and face the music, Dom," he advised. "Explain what Mal did."

Cobb sighed, wishing that it was that simple, but he knew that it was impossible to explain without getting a lot of important people in trouble, and the worse was that it was unlikely that anyone would believe him either. "Be realistic, Stephen," he said seriously. "They'd never understand – they'd lock me up and throwaway the key. Or worse."

Miles didn't look convince. "You think what you're doing now is helping your case?" he asked.

"Lawyers don't pay for themselves," Cobb countered. "This is what I _have_. This is what you _taught_ me."

Miles frowned with clear disapproval of what his son-in-law was doing for a living. "I never taught you to be a thief."

"No, you taught me to _navigate_ other people's minds," Cobb agreed. "But after what happened with Mal there weren't a whole lot of _legitimate_ ways for me to use that skill."

Miles sighed knowing that the younger man was right on both marks, and once again wished that he'd _never_ introduced either of them to the blasted program that started this entire mess. "Why did you come here, Dom?" he finally asked since he knew that Cobb wouldn't risk seeing him without having a good reason, beside dropping off gifts for his grandchildren.

"I _think_ I found a way home," Cobb told him hesitantly. "A job. For some very, _very_ powerful people. If I pull it off, I can get back to my family. But I need help."

"My God," Miles realized with a small smile. "You're here to corrupt one of my brightest and best."

Cobb chuckled grimly since it was somewhat true, the program had changed him, Mal, and even Emma and Arthur to an extent, and there was no going back to the way they used to be. "If you have someone good enough," he confirmed, "you have to let that person decide for him or herself. You know what I'm offering."

"Money?" Miles guessed.

Cobb shook his head, mildly annoyed. "No, not just money: the chance to build cathedrals, _entire cities_ – things that have never existed, things that couldn't _exist_ in the real world."

"Everybody dreams, Cobb," Miles reminded him. "Architects are supposed to make those dreams _real_."

"That's not what you used to say," Cobb countered sharply. "You told me that in the real world I'd be building attic conversions and gas stations. You said that if I mastered the dream a whole new way of creating and showing people my creations. You told me it would free me."

Miles winced at having his own words thrown back at him, remembering the lecture that he used to give to his students when he was involved with the dream-share program which, unfortunately, was still going strong at the college and was looking to steal more of his students from underneath him. "And I'm sorry," he apologized. "I was wrong."

Cobb smiled and shook his head. "No, you weren't," he insisted. "Your vision was a vision of pure creativity. It's where we took it that was wrong."

Miles conceded to that fact. "And now you want me to let someone else follow you into fantasy."

"They won't actually come on the job," Cobb promised, "they'll just design the levels and teach them to the dreamers."

"Design them yourself," Miles suggested helpfully.

Cobb sighed unhappily, wishing that he could design the levels himself, but he knew what would most likely happen if he did, and he was gonna have to admit to the older man. "Mal won't let me."

Miles stared at him, appalled that the rumors were true. "Come back to reality, Dom," he pleaded. "_Please_."

Cobb scoffed. "You want to know what's real, Stephen?" he asked. "Your grandchildren waiting for their dad to come back. This job – this _last_ job – is how I get there." _'And it _will_ be my last job,'_ he promised himself. _'I'll never do anymore dream-sharing after this is over.'_

Miles fiddled with some of the papers on his desk, unable to look the younger man in the eye, but it was clear that he was starting to cave.

"I wouldn't be standing here if there were any other way," Cobb explained, almost pleading. "I can get home. But I _need_ an architect who's as good as I was."

Miles finally smiled at him and put on his glasses. "I've got someone _better_."

* * *

Two hours later, Miles and Cobb were waiting out a different lecture hall, watching as students filed out, hurrying to get to either their next class, appointments, etc.; soon the older man waved over a young woman with long brown hair, brown eyes, and freckles covered her face, and Cobb was surprised since she didn't look much older then sixteen or seventeen years old.

"Ariadne."

Ariadne Castle came over, clutching a brown book bag in her arms. "Yes, professor?" she asked, proving that she was American, and swung the heavy bag over her shoulder.

"Ariadne, I'd like you to meet Mr. Cobb," Miles said, gesturing to him.

Ariadne eyed Cobb, sizing him up before offering her hand and he shook it. "Pleased to meet you."

"If you have a few moments," Miles told her. "Mr. Cobb has a job offer to discuss with you."

This piped Ariadne's interest and she looked back at Cobb. "A work placement?" she asked.

Cobb smiled slightly. "Not exactly."

* * *

Soon Cobb and Ariadne were on the roof of the college, and she was eating a sandwich she'd packed for a quick lunch between classes and was leaning against a railing, watching as Cobb pulled out a pad of graph paper and pen, which he handed to her. "I have a test for you."

"Aren't you going to tell me anything?" Ariadne asked, surprised as she swallowed her food and put the rest of her sandwich away for later.

"Before I describe the job," Cobb explained, removing the cap from the pen. "I have to know you can do it."

"Why?" Ariadne asked, wondering what kind of job they were talking about that needed someone like her; yes she was one of the youngest students at the college learning to be an architect, but she knew of others who were even better then she was.

Cobb shrugged, a little sheepishly. "It's not, strictly speaking, legal." And got raised eyebrows in return._ 'At least she isn't walking away…yet.'_ "You have two minutes to draw a maze that takes me one minute to solve," he instructed and glanced at his watch as she got ready. "Go."

Ariadne began drawing lines on the paper, constructing a maze.

"Stop." Cobb took back both items and examined the maze before solving it at a speed that surprised the young woman, and he looked her directly in the eye as he ripped off the sheet, crumbled it, and handed the pad and pen back. "Again."

Ariadne quickly drew out a new maze, which was even more complex, then the first maze.

"Stop."

She watched with a smile until Cobb quickly solved the new maze and her smile faded as he shook his head, ripping off the sheet of paper, crumbling it, and pocketing it along with the first one.

"You'll have to-" Cobb began when Ariadne snatched the pad and pen back with a scowl; watching, she then flipped the pad over and began drawing a series of concentric rings instead, and then handed them back to him with an defiant expression that reminded him a lot of himself.

Bemused, Cobb began working on solving the maze and got stuck several times before eventually solving it, and the fact that it took longer then a minute to solve was impressive in itself; he beamed at her. "Now _that's_ more like it," he praised and she grinned, thrilled at stumping him. _'Miles is right,'_ he thought, remembering when he had done this same test and had gotten it right on his fourth try._ 'She _is_ better then me. But can she do as well in the dream?'_

* * *

Meanwhile, Arthur and Emma had called upon some of their contacts to help find them a place to work; now they were walking down a narrow street, following the directions on a scrap of paper until they reached a tall building. Using a key that'd been provided, Arthur unlocked the door and they headed inside.

* * *

After several flights of stairs, they reached the top loft and looked around an empty and dusty workshop that clearly hadn't been used in some time; after confirming that the power, water, and the various equipment were all operational, the couple nodded in approval. It would work for the planning and research stages of the job.

* * *

Using the freight elevator this time, Arthur and Emma rolled in several large black cases and then worked on setting things up; they first dragged a pair of lawn chairs into the middle of the room, positioned one of the many tables, and then Arthur opened one of the black cases, pulling out a familiar silver briefcase, and set it on the table while Emma opened the other cases to get out more equipment. They had a lot of work to do before Cobb arrived with their new architect.

* * *

Sometime later, Cobb and Ariadne were sitting at a table at an outdoor café, and he was explaining the basics of the job and what her role in it was.

"They say we only use a fraction of the true potential of our brains…but they're talking about when we're _awake_," Cobb explained. "While we dream, the mind performs wonders."

"Such as?" Ariadne asked, sipping her coffee; she'd heard from fellow students about the dream-share program, but hadn't really paid much attention to it, wanting to focus on her studies instead.

"How do you imagine a building? You consciously create each aspect, puzzling over it in stages," Cobb responded. "But sometimes, when your imagination _flies_-"

"I'm _discovering_ it," Ariadne suggested.

Cobb nodded, impressed. "Exactly. Genuine _inspiration_." He then pulled out his pen and began drawing two circling arrows on the paper tablecloth. "In a dream your mind _continuously_ does that," he explained. "It creates and perceives a world _simultaneously_. _So well_ that you don't feel your brain doing the creating. That's why we can short-circuit the process."

"How?" Ariadne asked, now wondering if the rumors about the dream-share program being used for illegal means were true.

"By taking over the creating part," Cobb responded, drawing a line through the center of the circle. "This is where you come in," he explained. "You _build_ the world of the dream. _We_ take the subject into that dream, and let him fill it with his subconscious."

Ariadne frowned. _'Is he really _serious_ about all of this?'_ "But are you trying to fool him that the dream is actually real life?" she asked uncertainly.

Cobb nodded, once again impressed of how quickly she was picking up on what he was telling her. "While we're in there, we _don't_ want him to realize he's dreaming."

"How could I ever get enough detail to convince him that it's real?" Ariadne asked, already seeing several flaws in what she was being told.

Cobb smiled. "Our dreams seem real while we're in them," he stated. "It's only when we wake up we realize things were strange."

Ariadne didn't look convinced and gestured around them. "But all the textures of real life-the stone, the fabric. Cars…people…your mind can't create all this."

"It does," Cobb corrected. "Every time you dream. Let me ask you a question: You never remember the beginning of your dreams, do you? You just turn up in the middle of what's going on."

Ariadne shrugged. "I guess."

"So…how did we end up at this restaurant?" Cobb asked.

"We came here from…" Ariadne began and then trailed off, confused. Just _how_ did they end up here and why couldn't she remember?

"_How_ did we get here?" Cobb pressed. "Where are we?"

Ariadne looked around, her confusion mounting since it looked like they were outside one of Paris' many cafés, and then it dawned on her and a faint rumbling began. "Oh my God," she whispered, spooked. "We're _dreaming_."

Cobb nodded as the rumbling grew louder and he knew that meant only one thing, and it wasn't a good thing._ 'This is gonna hurt us both.'_ "Stay calm," he advised. "We're actually asleep in the workshop. This is your first lesson in shared dreaming."

Scared, Ariadne looked around, her mind reeling and Cobb braced himself as the entire area around them exploded with people, furniture, and other things flying around them; she gaped at the chaos as the building behind them began collapsing, and she saw that Cobb was shielding his head against the incoming downpour of debris.

"If it's just a dream!" she shouted over the noise. "Why are you covering your-" she was then hit in the face with a bunch of broken glass and she crumbled to the ground.

* * *

Ariadne woke up with a jolt, the memory of the glass hitting her slowly fading away while the pain seemed to linger.

"Because it's never just a dream," Cobb remarked, and she looked at him, spooked; they were both in the lawn chairs and Cobb was sitting up, amusement flickering in his eyes. Sure enough, they were in the workshop, and Arthur and Emma were standing nearby while in the background, Edith Piaf's "Non, je ne regrette rien" was playing. "And a face full of glass hurts like hell, doesn't it?" he asked, and she nodded. "While we're in it, it's real."

"That's why the military developed dream sharing," Arthur explained. "A training program where soldiers could strangle, stab and shoot each other, then wake up."

"How did architects get involved?" Ariadne asked.

"Someone had to design the dreams," Emma answered. "Which is why they typical go to colleges to look for promising students that are going to graduate in architecture or even interior designers will be recruited to help create the dreams."

While Ariadne absorb all of this, Cobb sat back in the lawn chair, adjusting the tubes on his wrist. "Let's go another five minutes," he suggested, and Arthur nodded, going to the machine and reset the timers while Emma turned the music off.

"We were only asleep for five minutes?" Ariadne asked, surprised. "We talked for an _hour_ at least…"

"When you dream, your mind functions more quickly," Cobb explained, "so time seems to pass more slowly."

"Five minutes in the real world gives you an hour in the dream," Arthur added.

"Let's see how much trouble you can cause in five minutes," Cobb suggested as a challenge.

Ariadne couldn't help but smile in response and settled back in the chair as Arthur pushed the button and the mixture of drugs flowed through the tubing and into their systems.

* * *

A/N: Next time Ariadne will create a dream and will cross paths with someone unpleasant. Put in your reviews of who you think that person will be. R&R everyone!


	5. Chapter 5: RISKS

Inception: Dreams or Reality? Part 1

A/N: I almost forgot to post this today since I've been busy with work this week and I'm looking forward to the weekend.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Inception_, _Batman,_ or _Doctor Who_. I only own the characters that I created.

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE: RISKS**

Soon they were back in the dream, which looked very similar to last time, only there were different people walking, driving, and biking around.

"It's good," Cobb remarked, looking around with approval. "You've got the café, the layout…you forgot the book shop but pretty much everything else is here."

"Who are the people?" Ariadne asked, looking around at the people, noting that they were completely different from before.

"They're projections of my subconscious," Cobb answered.

Ariadne glanced over her shoulder at him as they walked through the streets, avoiding the cars and bikes. "Yours?"

Cobb nodded. "Sure, _you_ are the dreamer, _I_ am the subject," he explained. "My subconscious populates your world. That's one way we get at a subject's thoughts, his mind creates the people, and so we can literally _talk_ to his subconscious."

"How else do you do it?" Ariadne asked, curious.

"Architecture," Cobb responded. "Build a bank vault or a jail, something secure, and the subject's mind will fill it with information he's trying to protect."

"Then you break in and steal it," Ariadne guessed.

Cobb nodded. "Exactly."

Ariadne looked around in wonder at the dream she'd built. "I _love_ the concrete sense of things," she commented, stamping her foot on the ground for a moment. "Real weight, you know? I thought a dream space would be all about the visual, but it's the _feel_ of things." She then thought of something that she'd always wanted to test. "Question is, what happens when you start to mess with the physics?"

She then started concentrating on the street in the distance, and with a grinding and bending of metal, the street started to bend in half − the buildings on either side was folding in until they formed the inside of a cube of a city, and the gravity was functioning independently on each plane.

Ariadne looked up, or down, at the people on the opposite city surface, and Cobb watched her, surprised and impressed. "It's something, isn't it?" she asked, pleased with herself.

"Yes," Cobb agreed quietly. "It is."

They then resumed walking until they reached the edge of the street and, together, they stepped up and kept walking, now upward, as they walked, she noticed that the projects were starting to stare at her. "Why are they looking at me?"

"Because you're changing things," Cobb explained, not surprised that the projections were starting to notice the changes being made. "My subconscious _feels_ that someone else is creating the world. The more you change things, the quicker the projections converge on you."

"Converge?" Ariadne repeated, confused.

"They feel the foreign nature of the dreamer," Cobb told her, "and attack like white blood cells fighting an infection."

Ariadne didn't like the sound of that. "They're going to attack us?" she asked.

"Just you, actually," Cobb corrected, smiling slightly as they kept walking; soon they were walking down a street toward the river, and as they drew closer, steps suddenly emerged from the flagstone, and Ariadne led Cobb up onto a small jetty. As she concentrated, pillars emerged and a bridge started to telescope out from the jetty; they stepped onto it as it grew, and Cobb was completely amazed by it all, but he was also concern, noting the reactions of the projections and how there were more of them now._ 'Not good.'_ "It's beautiful," he admitted, "but if you keep on changing things…"

The point became apparent when, as they were crossing the bridge, people crossing from the other direction were staring at Ariadne now, and several bumped into her as they passed.

"Mind telling your subconscious to take it easy?" Ariadne requested as a woman bumped into her on either side, nearly knocking her down.

Cobb shook his head. "That's why it's called subconscious," he pointed out. "I don't control it." And yet he admired the bridge, which now spanned the entire Seine. "Arched stone, iron pillars…it's…" he trailed off as several memories were triggered: memories of him and Mal standing together, laughing and smiling on the _exact_ same bridge. "I know this bridge. This place is real-" he realized, alarmed. _'This _so_ isn't good!'_ "You didn't imagine it, you remembered it…" and he hurried after the young woman, kicking himself for not warning her against this sort of thing sooner.

Ariadne nodded, pleased with herself in getting the details right. "I cross it every day on my way to the college."

"Never recreate places from your memory," Cobb advised, now keeping an eye out for a particular person, positive that she was nearby. "Always imagine new places."

Ariadne didn't see anything wrong with her drawing from her memory. "You have to draw from what you know-"

"Use _pieces_," Cobb interrupted, tensing up, "a streetlamp, phone booths, or a type of brick – not whole areas." And his heart sank when he saw that more and more projections were starting to close in._ 'Crap! I gotta get her to understand and get her out of here!'_

"Why not?" Ariadne asked.

Cobb sighed, frustrated, now running to catch up with her. "Because building dreams out of your own memories is the surest way to lose your grip on what's real and what's a dream," he told her seriously. _'Something that I learned the hard way.'_

"Did that happen to you?" Ariadne inquired, trying to figure out why Cobb needed her to do something that he could do himself.

Cobb winced at the question, keenly aware that the people in the area were starting to turn hostile, and then grabbed her arm, making the young woman face him. "Look, this isn't about _me_-" he began.

"Is that why you need me to build your dreams?" Ariadne interrupted, wanting to know, and then yelped when one of the men passing by grabbed her shoulder.

Cobb shoved him away. "Leave her alone," he ordered, but, like he'd said earlier, he had no control over his subconscious, and for every projection he pushed away from Ariadne, two more took that one's place, and soon five of them restrained him, despite his struggles, and three more grabbed Ariadne, who was starting to get scared. "Let her go! Let her go!"

"Cobb!" Ariadne screamed, struggling against them. "Let go! Let go!"

"Mal!" Cobb yelped, spotting his wife walking through the crowd toward them, her eyes fixed on Ariadne. "Mal! Don't!"

"Cobb!" Ariadne cried, terrified when Mal pulled out a large knife. "Wake me up! Cobb, wake me up!" she kept screaming as Mal, who was ignoring Cobb's pleads, plunged the knife toward her stomach-

* * *

Ariadne woke up with a strangled gasp and cry, alerting Arthur and Emma, who were quick to run to her aid as she clutched at her stomach, clearly still feeling the pain of being stabbed.

"Hey, hey! Look at me," Arthur advised. "It's ok."

"You're awake now," said Emma reassuringly, wondering what had happen down in the dream to wake her up so soon.

"W-why wouldn't I wake up?" Ariadne gasped, shaking as Arthur worked on removing the tubes from her wrist.

"There was still some time on the clock," Arthur explained. "The only way to wake from inside the dream is to die."

Just then Cobb woke up and, before Emma could go help him, he pulled the tubes off and stood, staggering slightly. "She'll need a totem," he announced, throwing the tubing at the case, panic crossing his face.

'_Uh oh,'_ Emma realized, guessing what must've happen._ 'She must've shown up again.'_

"What?" Ariadne asked, not understanding, still spooked by what'd happen down in the dream.

"Some kind of personal icon," Emma explained, knowing better then to be near Cobb when he was like this after waking up from a dream in a traumatic way; the one time that she had been too close when Cobb had woken up suddenly, she'd gotten clocked in the face that'd left her nose sore and throbbing, but unbroken. "A small object that you can always have with you, and that no one else knows-"

Ariadne interrupted, yelling after Cobb, who was now rushing into the bathroom, her expression now filled with anger. "That's some subconscious you've got, Cobb! She's a real charmer!"

Arthur sighed, guessing right who was responsible down in the dream. "Sounds like you've met Mrs. Cobb."

Ariadne stared at him, surprised. "She's his wife?"

Arthur nodded, rolling up the tubing, and continued the explanation of the totems. "So. A totem. You need something small, potentially heavy…"

* * *

Bent over a marble counter, Cobb pulled out his top and began spinning it.

_`"Like a coin?"`_ Ariadne asked.

_`"Too common,"`_ said Emma._ `"You need something that has a weight or movement that only _you_ know."`_

Cobb watched the top spinning until it finally wobbled and fell over; picking it up, he sighed, both relieved and disappointed at the same time.

* * *

"What's yours?" Ariadne asked.

Arthur pulled out a red die from his vest pocket. "A loaded die," he answered and then held it away when Ariadne tried to touch it. "I can't let you handle it," he explained. "That's the point. No one else can know the weight or balance of it."

"Why?" Ariadne asked, confused.

"It's because when you examine your totem," Emma explained, "you know, beyond a doubt, that you're not in someone else's dream." And then she held out what appeared to be a crystal ball. "This one's mine, and I'm the only one who knows the weight and balance of it."

Ariadne considered this and came to a decision. "That's not an issue for me."

"Why not?" Arthur asked, surprised.

"Arthur, Emma, maybe you both can't see what's going on, maybe you don't want to," Ariadne explained angrily. "But Cobb's got some _serious_ problems he's tried to bury down there and I'm not going to _open my mind_ to someone like that." She then grabbed her jacket, stood, and stormed toward the stairs.

Both Emma and Arthur sighed, not bothering to go after the young woman since it was clear that she wasn't going to come back.

"She'll be back," Cobb announced as he came out of the bathroom, slightly more composed, startling his friends.

"You sure about that?" Emma asked, skeptically. "'Cause it _sure_ didn't look like it based on how she just walked out."

Cobb knew that he was right. "I've never seen anyone pick it up so fast," he explained, rolling down and buttoned his sleeve. "And one reality won't be enough for her now. When she comes back, get her building mazes."

"Where will you be?" Arthur asked, putting away the tubing and shutting the case.

"I've got to talk to Eames," Cobb answered, pulling on his coat while ignoring the couples' alarmed expressions.

"Eames?" Arthur repeated, worried. "But he's in Mombasa. Cobol's backyard."

Cobb knew that, but he was determined to go. "Necessary risk."

"There are plenty of other thieves," Emma pointed out.

"We don't just need a thief," Cobb countered. "We need a forger."

Emma sighed. "Ok, so a forger, fine, but _why_ my ex-boyfriend? He's a jerk!"

Cobb didn't bother to answer since he'd heard Emma's complaints about her ex before, and headed out the door to the stairs.

"Looks like we'll be working with your ex again," Arthur remarked and his wife just glowered; neither of them liked Eames that much, and the thought of working with him on a job like this wasn't heart-warming either.

It was going to be _long_ week.

* * *

Two plane flights later, Cobb arrived in Mombasa and it didn't take him very long to find the person he was looking for; in a gambling den, a westerner in his early 40's with brown hair, brown eyes, and was wearing a slightly shabby brown suit was seated at a dice game and was rubbing two red chips together when Cobb came up behind him.

"Rub them against each other all you like," he teased, "they're not going to breed."

Eames glanced briefly at the younger man before returning his attention to the game. "You never know." He set the chips down on red 13 and watched as the dice rolled across the table.

"Drink?" Cobb offered as the dealer took the chips.

Eames sighed and stood up. "You're buying." And he headed toward the front of the den with Cobb following; arriving at the cashier, he pulled out two stacks of red chips and set them down in front of the security gate.

While the cashier began counting out a stack of money, Cobb picked up one of the chips and examined it. "You're spelling hasn't improved," he remarked.

"Piss off," Eames muttered, taking the chip back and shoved them over to the cashier, who handed him the money in return.

"How's your handwriting?" Cobb asked, deciding that he'd teased the older man enough for the time being.

"Versatile," Eames answered after thanking the cashier and they headed out.

"Good."

* * *

Out on the street, Eames and Cobb headed for a nearby bar, and the British man gave the younger man some important information.

"Word is, you're not welcome in these parts," said Eames.

"Yeah?" Cobb asked.

Eames nodded. "There's a price on your head from Cobol Engineering," he explained. "Pretty big one, actually."

This didn't surprise Cobb that much since he figured that Cobol Engineering wasn't too happy with him for failing to get Saito's plans. "You wouldn't sell me out."_ 'I wonder if they've hired the League of Shadows to come after us again?'_

Eames frowned at him, offended. "'Course I would."

Cobb smiled; he knew when Eames was joking. "Not when you hear what I'm selling."

* * *

After collecting two beers and a small bowl of peanuts from the bar, the two men went upstairs and seated themselves at a balcony table that overlooked the busy street below.

"Inception," Cobb began, making Eames pause in his peanut eating for a moment. "Don't bother telling me it's impossible," he added, having heard enough from Arthur and Emma.

"It's perfectly possible," said Eames, now sipping his beer. "Just bloody difficult."

Cobb was both surprised and delighted to hear that. "That's what I keep saying to Arthur and Emma," he remarked.

"Arthur and Emma?" Eames repeated, eyebrows raised at hearing the names of his ex-girlfriend and her, in his mind, _boring_ husband. "You're still working with that stick-in-the-mud and my ex?"

Cobb smiled around his beer, not surprised that Eames' attitude about his friends hadn't changed very much; he'd worked with Eames on a few jobs and the tension between the British man, Arthur, and Emma when they were in the same room together, much less the same dream, always bordered onto the comical, and there had only been one time when Arthur had actually slugged Eames, when the later had groped Emma's backside. "He's a good point man, and I've yet to meet anyone with Emma's skill when it comes to interior details."

"I'll concede to Emma's skill since she _is_ unique in that respect," Eames admitted. "And Arthur _is_ the best at what he does…for someone who has a degree in psychology, but he has no imagination," he added. "If you're going to perform inception, you _need_ imagination."

"You've done it before?" Cobb asked, interested.

"_Yes_ and no," Eames answered hesitantly. "We tried it. Got the idea in place, but it didn't take."

Cobb was disappointed._ 'Looks like I'm the only one who has _actually_ done it successfully.'_ "You didn't plant it deep enough?"

"It's not just about depth," Eames corrected, eating another peanut. "You need the _simplest_ version of the idea – the one that will grow naturally in the subject's mind. It's a _very_ subtle art."

Cobb nodded since that's what they were going to need for the job to work. "That's why I'm here."

"What's the idea you need to plant?" Eames asked, sipping his beer.

"We need the heir to a major corporation to break up his father's empire," Cobb answered, smoothing back his hair, recalling the little that Saito had told him.

Eames nodded, already spotting the complexity of the task. "See, right there you've got various political motivations, anti-monopolistic sentiment and so forth," he explained. "But all that stuff's at the mercy of the subject's prejudice – you _have_ to go to the basic."

"Which is?" Cobb inquired.

"The relationship with the father," Eames answered, sipping his beer and popping another peanut in his mouth. "Do you have a chemist?" he asked.

Cobb shook his head; they were going to need a chemist for the depths they were going to go on this job. "Not yet."

"There's a man here. Yusuf," Eames told him. "He formulates his own versions of the compounds."

That sounded good to Cobb. "Let's go see him," he suggested.

"Once you've lost your tail," Eames countered and noted the younger man's confused expression. "Back by the bar, blue tie," he explained, referring to a young man in a cream-colored business suit. "Came in about two minutes after we did."

"Cobol Engineering?" Cobb guessed, not bothering to look as he finished off his beer, recalling that Eames had mentioned there being an award on his head.

Eames nodded. "They pretty much own Mombasa."

Nodding, Cobb eyed the balcony and the drop to the street below, having noted a small pile of reed mats near the entrance. "Run interference," he suggested. "We'll meet downstairs in half an hour."

"Back here?" Eames asked, surprised.

Cobb nodded. "Last place they'd expect."

Bemused, Eames finished his own drink, gathered the bottles, and then headed over to the small bar, where the businessman was seated, and Cobb peered over the balcony, eyeballing the distance. "Freddy!" he exclaimed loudly, blocking the man's view of Cobb, and was enjoying his "deer-in-the-headlights" expression. "Freddy Simmons, it _is_ you!"

Cobb hopped over the balcony and landed on the mats below, grunting slightly as the impact shot through his legs; upstairs, the businessman realized that his target had just escaped, and he bolted.

"Oh," said Eames, faking disappointment. "No, it isn't." _'I've done what I can, Dom. See you in an hour…hopefully.'_

* * *

Recovering, Cobb straightened up and headed into the crowded street, hoping to put as much distance as he could between him and the guy in the building when a second man in a business suit grabbed his arm roughly.

"We need to-"

Cobb head-butted him and ran through the street as more agents appeared, giving chase; after a few minutes, he managed to lose himself in the crowd, and ducked into a dark, crowded coffee house. Spotting an empty seat, he slipped into it and nodded to the startled men already seated at the table; unfortunately, when the waiter arrived with a tray of coffee and saw Cobb, he set the tray down and began to protest loudly in Swahili.

Worried that the agents would hear, Cobb tried to shush him by ordering a coffee for himself. "One _café_. Shh! One _café_." And when he glanced toward the entrance, he saw two agents, one of them was the guy from the bar, and he bolted, pushing past the waiter; he'd only taken a couple of steps when a third agent appeared out of nowhere and tackled him to the floor.

More agents arrived as Cobb punched and kicked the agent until he stayed down, and was getting to his feet when the new arrivals began firing their guns at him, accidentally hitting the guy from the bar in the back as the customers screamed and dove for cover; realizing that they were bent on killing him, Cobb jumped out a nearby window, colliding with another agent, knocking him out, and ran down the narrow street.

One of the agents _almost_ caught him when a produce truck pulled into the street in front of them; Cobb managed to jump to the side while the agent collided with the hood and was knocked down with a startled grunt. Two more agents pushed through the crowd and opened fired, forcing both Cobb and the driver in the truck to duck.

Climbing over the truck with the agents in pursuit, Cobb ran down the street when he saw that it was a dead end, and then he saw a opening right next to the building blocking his way, and he dove inside it as the agents continued to give chase, having to reload their guns; squeezing himself through the opening, he found himself getting stuck close to the other side where it was much narrower.

Hearing the agents drawing closer, Cobb nearly dislocated his shoulder as he _finally_ got out, stumbling out into a much larger street just as the two agents entered the opening; he started down the street, passing several cars going into the opposite direction, stopped when a black SUV blocked his way with more agents pouring out, and ran back the way he came.

One of the agents managed to squeeze his way through the narrow opening and was aiming his gun at Cobb, when one of the passing cars suddenly stopped and the back passenger door swung open, knocking the man to the ground, and Saito, of all people, poked his head out and waved to Cobb.

"Care for a lift, Mr. Cobb?"

Cobb dove into the backseat with Saito, slamming the door shut as the car zoomed down the street, and he stared at the Japanese businessman in shock, breathing hard. "What're you doing in Mombasa, Saito?"

"I have to protect my investment," Saito answered with a smirk and Cobb rolled his eyes, suspecting that the businessman had been keeping tabs on him this whole time without him realizing it, and if Arthur and Emma, or even Eames, ever found out, he was never going to hear the end of it.

* * *

Back at the bar, Eames was waiting outside, wondering whether Cobb had managed to lose the agents or not, when he heard a whistle and saw the young man waving to him from the back window of a black car that pulled up. "This is your idea of losing a tail?" he asked, spotting Saito as he opened the front passenger door.

"Different tail," Cobb responded with a shrug and Eames scoffed as he got into the car. "Eames, meet, Saito. He's the one backing the job." And Eames was now _very_ interested.

"Really?"

* * *

A/N: I couldn't help but laugh when Saito helped Cobb escape from Cobol's agents like that, and Eames is so funny, too. R&R everyone!


	6. Chapter 6: ASSEMBLING THE TEAM

Inception: Dreams or Reality? Part 1

A/N: Just to let you all know, there are two chapters left for part one of this story.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Inception_, _Batman,_ or _Doctor Who_. I only own the characters that I created.

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: ASSEMBLING THE TEAM**

Back in Paris, Arthur and Emma were in the workshop: Arthur was working on the machine, adding chemicals, Emma was doing some rough sketches of what the levels, guessing that they would be doing _at least_ two levels again, would look like, and they were waiting for word from Cobb of whether he'd gotten Eames on board and if he knew anything else about their target.

They both looked around when they heard a small cough and were pleasantly surprised to see Ariadne, proving that Cobb had been right…again.

"Cobb said you'd be back," Arthur remarked as they both stood up, Emma setting aside her sketchpad.

"I tried not to come," Ariadne admitted sheepishly; she had tried really, _really_ hard not to return to the workshop, but the experience of the dream world, even with being stabbed by Mal…

"But there's nothing else quite like it," Emma guessed, exchanging a smile with her husband, for they both had gone through something similar after sharing the dream for the first time.

Ariadne nodded. "No paper, no pens…nothing between you and raw, _direct_ creation."

'_Yup, she is _hooked_,'_ Arthur thought, nodding as he closed the case. "Shall we take a look at some paradoxical architecture?" he suggested and Ariadne nodded eagerly, taking off her coat.

* * *

Soon the trio were in the dream world, which now looked like an office complex made out of glass and steel, and Ariadne followed the couple as they walked up a flight of busy stairs that curved near the top.

"You're going to have to master a few tricks if you're going to build _at least_ two complete dream levels," Arthur explained as they passed a woman, who had dropped some papers on the stairs. "Excuse us."

"What sort of tricks?" Ariadne asked as they turned a corner and continued up a new flight of stairs.

"In a dream, you can cheat architecture into impossible shapes," Arthur explained as they kept walking up the stairs. "That lets you create closed loops, like the Penrose Steps. The infinite staircase." And when they walked past the same woman, who was still picking up her papers, Ariadne realized that they were still on the same staircase and were still going up the stairs, and he stopped them when they reached the highest step. "See?"

Ariadne looked down and her jaw dropped at the slight of a large drop that led to the next step of the second staircase.

"Paradox," Emma told her as they turned to go back down the stairs. "And it's a good idea to remember where you put them, or you might accidentally fall a _long way down_." and Ariadne nodded, taking mental notes.

"And a closed loop like this helps you disguise the boundaries of the dream you've created," Arthur added.

"How big do the levels have to be?" Ariadne asked as they reached the ground floor, recalling the dream city.

"Anything from the floor of a building, to an entire city," Emma answered. "But it has to be complicated enough for us to hide from the projections."

"A maze," Ariadne suggested.

Arthur nodded. "And the better the maze-"

"The longer we have before the projections catch us," Ariadne concluded, looking around at the people, who were currently ignoring them. "My subconscious seems polite enough," she commented.

Emma and Arthur laughed uneasily as one of the men glanced at them, a sure sign that they were starting to become aware. "You wait, they'll turn ugly. No one likes to see someone else messing around in their mind."

Ariadne thought about that and something occurred to her, something concerning Cobb wanting her to do the building of the dreams. "Cobb can't build anymore, can he?" she asked finally.

Arthur shrugged as they stopped walking. "I don't know if he can't, but he won't," he admitted. "He thinks it's safer if he doesn't know the layouts."

"Why?" Ariadne inquired.

"He won't tell us," said Emma, sighing. "But we think it's Mal."

Ariadne recalled Cobb shouting the name "Mal" in the dream, and figured that was the Mrs. Cobb that had attacked her. "His ex-wife?"

The couple shook their heads, wondering where she'd come up with that one. "She's not his ex."

"They're still together?" Ariadne asked, surprised.

"No," Arthur said as gently as he could, especially since it was a sore subject. "No, she's dead, Ariadne. What you see in there is just his projection of her."

Ariadne was shocked and quickly backtracked on what she thought was true. "What was she like in real life?" she asked, shaken.

"She was lovely," Arthur responded quietly.

"And a good friend," Emma added sadly. "She and I were childhood friends, and why her projection is so violent, it's a mystery."

* * *

Back in Mombasa and making sure that they had lost Cobol's agents, Eames, Saito, and Cobb followed a young boy, who led them to a building that was being guarded by a man with a club, and Eames paid him before they nodded to the guard and headed up the stairs; inside was a pharmacy with rows upon row of wooden shelves holding hundreds of dusty glass bottles of all shapes and colors. At the far end of the room was a portly 40-year-old man, Yusuf, who rose from behind his desk, and beckoned to them.

"Come, come," said Yusuf, and he shook Eames' hand before fixing his eyes on Cobb, smiling slightly, almost as if he knew something about the young man. "Ah, yes. Mr. Cobb," he said pleasantly. "I've heard so very much about you." He then indicated several chairs. "Please."

As Saito moved to sit in one of the chairs, Yusuf quickly moved around his desk and chased a tabby cat off the chair. "Bloody cats," he muttered, moved to a shelf and ran his fingers over the glass bottles, which didn't have any labels, as the three men sat down, after making sure that there weren't any other cats. "You work using Somnacin, I think,

Mr. Cobb?"

Cobb nodded watching as Yusuf selected a glass bottle filled with an orange liquid, and carried it over to the desk. "You're well informed, Mr. Yusuf," he remarked, and then eyed the bottle dubiously as the older man set it down in front of him. "Somnacin?"

"Yusuf's Somnacin," Yusuf answered proudly as he removed the stopper and held the bottle toward Cobb's nose.

Cobb sniffed and was intrigued by the unique smell. "As good as the real thing?" he asked.

Frowning, Yusuf pulled the bottle away, clearly offended. "Better." He then held the bottle up to the light, letting them admire the liquid inside. "Binds the dreamers tight," he explained. "Let's them dream as one. Makes it real." He then smirked. "Of course, if you'd prefer, you could use Somnacin brand. If you could explain to the international control council what you wanted it for."

Yusuf then put the bottle back on the self and sat down behind his desk. "You are seeking a chemist?" he asked and Cobb nodded. "To formulate compounds for a job?"

"And to come into the field with us," Cobb added.

Yusuf shook his head. "No, I rarely go into the field, Mr. Cobb."

"We need you there to tailor compounds to our particular requirements," Cobb explained.

"Which are?" Yusuf asked, curious.

"Great depth," Cobb responded.

Yusuf nodded, knowing what he meant. "A dream within a dream. Two levels."

"Three," Cobb corrected.

"Not possible," Yusuf pointed out. "That many dreams within dreams would be too unstable."

"I've done it before," Cobb stated, ignoring the questioning looks from Eames and Saito. "You just have to add a sedative."

"A _powerful_ sedative," Yusuf agreed, wondering when it was that Cobb had gone down three levels. "How many team members?" he asked.

"Six," Cobb answered.

"Seven," Saito corrected, getting surprise looks from Cobb and Eames while Yusuf stood and searched the shelves. "The only way to know you've done the job is if I go in with you," he explained.

"There's no room for tourists on these jobs, Mr. Saito," Eames objected.

Saito smirked. "This time, it would seem there is."

Cobb looked at him uneasily and then returned his attention to Yusuf, who had selected another orange-filled glass bottle, and set it on the desk. "I think this is a good place to start," he told them, nodding to the bottle. "I use it every day."

"For what?" Cobb asked, eying the orange liquid.

"I'll show you," Yusuf offered, picking up a large ring of keys and then paused, almost as if he was having second thoughts. "Perhaps…you will not want to see."

Cobb, on the other hand, picked up the bottle and stood up, gesturing to the older man as Eames and Saito followed suit. "After you."

* * *

Unlocking a door with one of the keys, Yusuf led them down a flight of stairs into the basement of the building, and it was there that they saw an unusual sight: beyond was a dark room filled with rows of low cots; on each cot was a sleeping occupant with tubes connected to their wrists, and a elderly bald man was watching over them. When he saw the group, he immediately stood up.

"Nineteen, twenty," Eames quietly counted, stunned by the number of sleepers. "All connected, bloody hell."

"They come every day," Yusuf informed the three men as they wandered around the room. "To share the dream." And he nodded to the elderly man, who went over to the nearest sleeper, reached over, and slapped the man's face _hard_, but the sleeper didn't even react. "See? Very stable."

Cobb nodded, still staring at the sleepers. "How long do they dream?" he asked.

"Three, four hours," Yusuf answered. "Every day."

"How long in dream time?" Cobb inquired, eying the tubing, which was hooked onto the ceiling so that they wouldn't accidentally trip on it.

Yusuf shrugged. "With this compound…about forty hours. Each and every day."

Saito stared around the room, clearly appalled by what he was seeing. "_Why_ do they do it?" he asked.

"Tell him, Mr. Cobb," Yusuf suggested.

"After a while," Cobb explained and looked at the Japanese businessman, "it becomes the only way you _can_ dream."

"Do _you_ still dream, Mr. Cobb?" Yusuf asked, and Cobb looked away, feeling _very_ uneasy by both what he was seeing, _and_ by the question.

Eames examined one of the sleepers, frowning. "They come here every day to sleep?" he asked.

"No," said the elderly man, and Cobb turned to face him as he looked fondly at the sleepers. "They come to be woken up…the dream has become their reality…" He then poked a finger at the young man's chest. "And who are you to say otherwise?"

Cobb was unnerved by the fact that the old man had read him so easily; pulling himself together, he handed the bottle to Yusuf and took his coat off. "Let's see what you can do."

* * *

Soon Cobb was lying on a cot, sleeping, and was hooked up onto a machine while Yusuf, Eames, and Saito watched; after a few seconds, he began twitching and shifting in his sleep as memories involving Mal, a train, and her whispering to him in their living room flashed through his mind – then his eyes snapped open and he sat up, breathing hard.

"Sharp, no?" Yusuf asked, curious as to what it was that the young man had been dreaming about so intensely.

Cobb nodded, removed the tubes, stood, and then headed for the restroom.

* * *

"Come on," Cobb muttered, splashing cold water onto his face, trying to rid himself of the lingering dream, and the memory of Mal sitting on a window edge, the wind blowing her hair, and a sad smile on her face. "Come _on_." Breathing hard still, he fumbled for his top and tried to spin it, only to have it fall on the floor instead.

"Everything alright, Mr. Cobb?" Saito asked from the doorway, eying the younger man with concern, and he then glanced down at the top.

"Everything's fine," Cobb lied as he turned off the water, snatched up the top and pocketing it as he used a paper towel to dry his face, walking past Saito, who didn't look convinced, but didn't push the issue either…for now.

* * *

Later that same day on a rooftop with three chairs and a table, Saito handed Cobb, who was more composed, and Eames two folders.

"Robert Fischer, 32," Saito informed, sitting down across from Cobb. "Heir to the Fischer Morrow energy conglomerate. He's spent his whole life being groomed as successor – breaking up his father's empire will take a radical shift in his thinking."

Cobb raised his eyebrows as he flipped through the various photos and documents. "What's your problem with Fischer?" he asked.

"That's not your concern," said Saito coldly.

Cobb sighed. "This isn't the usual corporate espionage, Mr. Saito," he pointed out. "This is _inception_. The seed of the idea we plant will grow in this man's mind. It'll change him. It might even come to _define_ him."

Saito raised his eyebrows, eying the young man while Eames watched them both. "My sources suggest you might not have always been so cautious," he remarked.

"Then you need new sources, Mr. Saito," Cobb countered with a hint of challenge in his voice.

Saito considered this and then sighed. "Fischer Morrow has the regulators in their pockets," he explained. "We're the last company standing between them and _total_ energy dominance and we can no longer compete. Soon they'll control the energy supply of _half_ the world. They'll be able to blackmail governments, dictate policy. In effect, they become a _new superpower_." And he thumped the table. "The world _needs_ Robert Fischer to change his mind."

"That's where we come in," Eames remarked, flipping through the folder. "How's Robert Fischer's relationship to his father?" he inquired.

"Rumor is the relationship is complicated," Saito responded.

"We'll need more than rumor, Mr. Saito," said Cobb thoughtfully, pausing on a news article about the father and son, the title saying something about them being at odds.

"Can you get me access to him?" Eames asked, showing them the picture of a man with white hair. "Browning. Fischer senior's right-hand man. Fischer junior's godfather."

Saito nodded. "It should be possible," he agreed. "_If_ you can get the right references."

Eames grinned slyly. "References are something of a specialty for me, Mr. Saito."

* * *

In a different part of the world, Henri Ducard was looking through some papers in a study when a man entered and bowed. "Yes?"

"Sire, Cobb was spotted in Momabsa," the man reported. "He is assembling a new team and is gathering information on Robert Fischer."

Henri nodded. "Very well, keep me inform." And went back to his work as the man bowed and left.

* * *

A/N: I hope you all are enjoying this and please post reviews to let me know what you all think. R&R everyone!


	7. Chapter 7: RESEARCH

Inception: Dreams or Reality? Part 1

A/N: I'm back and there's just one more chapter after this one to round up part one.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Inception_, _Batman,_ or _Doctor Who_. I only own the characters that I created.

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN: RESEARCH**

Meanwhile in Paris, Arthur and Emma were in the workshop with Ariadne and were going over some basic maze ideas that she could use in the dream levels, once they knew more about the subject, and now many dream levels since Cobb hadn't given them a clear idea.

"What do you know about him?" she asked, looking through a thick book of mazes.

"The only thing we know is that he's the heir to a financial empire of some kind," Arthur answered, "and that we need to perform inception on him so that he can dissolve the family business instead."

"What's inception?" Ariadne asked.

"It's a way to plant the seed of an idea into a person's mind," Cobb said from the doorway, surprising the trio. "I'm glad to see you, Ariadne," he added, walking over to the table that was covered with books, and was soon followed by Saito, Eames, and Yusuf. "I got the rest of the team: Eames, Yusuf, and Mr. Saito."

Arthur and Emma were surprised to see the Japanese businessman. "What're you doing here, Saito?"

"I'm here to make sure that you get the job done," Saito answered, smiling slightly at their uneasy expressions.

* * *

After making the rounds of introductions, a whiteboard was set up, and Cobb passed around files to the team. "The mark is Robert Fischer, heir to the Australian energy conglomerate, Fischer Morrow," he told them and then wrote on the board. "'I will split up my father's empire'." He then faced the team. "An idea Robert Fischer's conscious mind would never accept," he explained. "We have to plant it deep in his subconscious."

"How deep?" Arthur asked.

"Three levels down," Cobb answered.

"A dream within a dream within a dream?" Emma asked, exchanging a look with her husband. "Is that even possible?"

"Yes," Cobb confirmed. "It is." He then nodded to the board. "Now, the subconscious motivates through emotion, not reason, so we have to translate the idea into an _emotional_ concept."

"How do you translate a business strategy into an emotion?" Arthur wondered.

Cobb shrugged. "That's what we have to figure out," he admitted. "Robert and his father have a tense relationship. Worse, even, than the gossip columns have suggested."

"Do you play on that?" Eames suggested. "Suggest breaking up his father's company as a 'screw you' to the old man?"

Cobb shook his head. "No. Positive emotion trumps negative emotion every time," he insisted. "We yearn for people to be reconciled, for catharsis. We need _positive_ emotional logic."

Eames considered their options, eying what was written on the board as he turned his chair side to side, and then he got an idea. "Try this, "my father accepts that I want to create for myself, not follow in his footsteps"," he suggested.

Cobb nodded. "That might work."

"Might?" Arthur repeated, skeptically. "We'll have to do better than that."

Not wanting to pass up a chance to tease the younger man, Eames turned his chair to face him. "Thanks for the contribution, Arthur."

Arthur scowled at him. "Forgive me for wanting a little specificity, Eames."

"Inception's not about specificity," Cobb said, stopping a possible fight. "When we get inside his head, we're going to have to work with what we find."

Eames grinned while Arthur rolled his eyes, annoyed, and then Emma brought up a different problem.

"Cobb, assuming that you're serious about going three levels down, who are the dreamers going to be?" she asked, already figuring that Cobb wasn't going to do it since it meant that Mal would probably show up…again.

"Yusuf is going to be the dreamer for the first level," Cobb answered. "Arthur will be the dreamer for the second level, and for the third level there'll be two dreamers to play it safe: Eames and you, Emma."

"Me?" Emma repeated, alarmed. "Cobb, you know that it's one thing for me to provide ideas for the dreams, but to be a dreamer isn't one of my strongest skills." The few times that she'd ever built a dream, it'd ended up falling down around her ears because of something minor that she'd overlooked.

Eames grinned. "Oh don't worry, sweetie," he teased, "I'll be here to help."

Emma scowled at her ex-boyfriend, not thrilled in the slightest. "Oh _joy_."

* * *

Soon they were all down in the dream world, which looked like a street in a big city, where Ariadne was showing Yusuf aspects of the geography.

"We could split the idea into emotional triggers," Eames suggested, "and use one on each level."

"How do you mean?" Cobb asked.

"On the top level, we open up his relationship with his father," Eames explained. "Say: "I will not follow in my father's footsteps." Next level down, we've accessed his ambition and self "will create something for myself." Then, the bottom level, we bring out the emotional big guns…"

"'My father doesn't want me to be him'," Cobb concluded.

Eames nodded. "That could do it."

"How do you produce these emotional triggers?" Arthur asked.

"I forge each emotional concept in the style and manner of Peter Browning, a key figure in Fischer's emotional life," Eames responded.

Just then, two African pedestrians wandered into view, surprising the team, and questioning looks were exchanged. Who had brought in projections?

"Are those yours?" Emma asked Eames, who shook his head.

Frowning, Cobb turned to Yusuf, who was looking instantly guilty. "Yusuf?"

"Yup. Sorry," Yusuf apologized.

"Suppress them," Cobb ordered. "We don't bring our own projections into the dream – we let Fischer's subconscious supply the people."

Ariadne didn't really understand while Cobb was being so insistent about that. "Why?" she asked Emma.

"Think about the first _Ghostbusters_ movie," Emma suggested, "and the scene when the giant Stay-puff Puff-man showed up when they were asked to choose a form for the bad guy, and Ray ended up visualizing a giant marshmallow man of doom."

Ariadne nodded, remembering the movie. "Ok."

"Saito, when do I get to see Browning?" Eames asked, hoping to research the man as soon as possible.

"You fly out to Sydney on Tuesday," Saito told him. "We've arranged for you to spend several days as part of a consulting litigation team working for Browning."

* * *

Tuesday morning found Eames, now in a black business suit and cleaned up with his hair slicked back, seated in a crowded office filled with boxes and files, four additional lawyers, and Peter Browning himself; the office was located in Fischer Manor, mainly due to Maurice's declining health. Keeping to himself, Eames quietly studied everything about Browning, including how he acted toward others, and managed to not draw any attention to himself in the process.

"I'm not smelling settlement here," Browning stated, tossing a some papers onto the already crowded desk, "take them down." and he processed to remove his glasses.

'_And some poor sap is going to find himself either in jail or on the street,'_ Eames thought, watching closely the way that Browning handled his glasses.

"Mr. Browning," protested one of the lawyers seated next to a laptop. "Maurice Fischer's policy is always one of _avoiding_ litigation."

Eyebrows raised, Browning turned to face the young lawyer, pocketing his glasses, his face both calm and powerful at the same time. "Shall we relay your concerns directly to Maurice?" he suggested.

The lawyer shifted uneasily in his seat. "I don't think it's necessary."

"No I think we _should_," said Browning, and he headed over to a pair of double doors, walking directly past Eames, and opened them; on the other side was a large wood-paneled room that'd been converted from being the study to a makeshift hospital room for Maurice Fischer, who was lying sickly and pale in a hospital bed, hooked up to various machines that were being watched over by a nurse in a white uniform.

Browning hesitated for a moment and then moved over to a tall figure standing near the window, this was Robert Fischer, and he was clearly taking his father's illness hard. "How is he?" he asked, referring to Maurice, who was wheezing, and Robert turned to look at him. "I don't want to bother him unnecessarily but I know he-"

Just then Maurice suddenly lashed out with an arm, startling them. "Robert!" he shouted, knocking things off the nightstand, including a silver-framed picture. "I've told you to keep out the damn-" and he continued mumbling while the nurse attended to him, trying to calm him down.

Robert walked over and crouched to retrieve the framed photograph, and he looked at the photo through the broken glass; it was a photo of him as a kid with his father, and he was blowing on a homemade pinwheel that he'd made himself. Glancing at his father, he straightened up with the framed photo in hand.

Browning nodded to the picture. "Must be a cherished memory of his," he commented.

Robert shook his head sadly. "I put it by his bed," he explained. "He hasn't even noticed."

Browning sighed and put an arm around the younger man's shoulders. "Robert, we _have_ to talk about a power of attorney," he insisted. "I know this is hard for you, but it's important that we start to think about the future-"

"Not now, Uncle Peter," said Robert, pulling away and returning to the window, clutching the photograph, and ignoring Browning's disappointed expression; Eames watched all of this from the other room, mentally taking notes on everything that'd happen.

* * *

A few days later, Eames returned to Paris to report on everything he'd seen and heard, having worked on the dream-version of Browning he'd planned to use on. "The vultures are circling," he informed the team. "The sicker Maurice Fischer becomes, the stronger Peter Browning becomes, and I've had time to learn Browning's physical presence and mannerisms," he added.

"Now, in the dream, I can impersonate Browning and suggest the concepts to Fischer's conscious mind," Eames explained, drawing an diagram on one of the boards. "Then we take Fischer down another level and his own subconscious feeds it right back to him."

"So he gives _himself_ the idea," Arthur guessed, impressed.

"Precisely," Eames agreed. "That's the only way to make it stick. It has to seem _self-generated_."

Arthur smiled slightly. "Eames, I'm impressed."

"Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated, Arthur," Eames teased, enjoying the younger man's exasperated expression.

* * *

Late that night, Ariadne was still at the workshop, and she was working on her totem; using both a micro drill and a small vice, she made some adjustments to a brass chess piece, and smiled when it tipped over the way she wanted to. Just then she heard a noise and she went to investigate.

Following the noise, she soon found Cobb standing in front of a desk and was tinkering with one of the machines. "Are you going under on your own?" she asked, startling him; the only person she'd seen go under without anyone else had been Eames, and he only did this when he wanted to work on the Browning identity.

Cobb flushed slightly and closed the case. "I was just running some tests," he explained, sort of. "I didn't realize anyone was here."_ 'I better make sure that the place is completely empty, or at least have Yusuf stand guard.'_

"Just working on my totem," Ariadne told him, holding up the chess piece.

"Here, let me see," Cobb offered, holding out his hand, but she shook her head, and he smiled. "You're learning."

"It's an elegant solution to keeping track of reality," Ariadne remarked. "Your invention?"

Cobb shook his head, a wistful expression crossing his face. "No. Mal's." he then pulled out the top and rolled it between his fingers. "This one was hers," he explained. "She'd spin it in a dream and it would never topple. Just spin and spin."

Ariadne nodded, thinking of what Arthur and Emma had told her about the late Mal Cobb, who had been a sweet and kind person in real life, and yet they couldn't figure out why her projection was so dark and dangerous. "Arthur and Emma told me she died."

Cobb nodded, putting away the top. "She did. How are the mazes coming?" he asked, having been avoiding the area where models of the three levels were being put together so that they could be explained to the dreamers.

* * *

Ariadne led him over to the workspace she'd been using and pointed out the pictures and sketches provided by Emma. "Good. Each level relates to the part of the subject's subconscious we're trying to access," she explained. "I'm making the bottom level a hospital, so that Fischer will bring his father there-"

"Don't tell me," Cobb interrupted. "Remember, you only want the dreamer to know the layout."

"Why's that so important?" Ariadne asked, although she had her suspicions, partly based on what she'd managed to get out of Emma and Arthur, and Cobb's reaction to seeing Yusuf's projections popping up that one time.

"In case one of us brings in part of our subconscious," Cobb explained. "You wouldn't want any projections knowing the layout."

"In case you bring Mal in," Ariadne guessed and he looked away, refusing to answer. "You won't build yourself because if you know the maze, then she knows it. And she'd sabotage the operation. You can't keep her out, can you?" she asked, but he still didn't say anything. "Do the others know?"

"No," Cobb finally answered, although he suspected that Arthur and Emma were starting suspect the truth…or at least some of it.

Ariadne frowned. "You have to warn them if it's getting worse-" she began.

"I didn't say it's getting worse," Cobb interrupted gently. "Look, Ariadne, I need _them_ for this job. I need _you_ for this job. Without your help, I'll never get back to my children. And that's all I can care about right now."

"Why can't you go home, Cobb?" Ariadne asked, wishing that he would giver her a straight answer for once.

Cobb stared at her for several seconds, trying to decide whether to tell her the whole truth or not. "They think I killed her," he finally answered.

"How did she die?" Ariadne asked, surprised.

Cobb thought about the last time he'd seen his wife alive and decided that he'd revealed enough. "Thank you."

"For what?" Ariadne asked, confused.

"Not asking whether I did," Cobb responded and then walked away.

Ariadne watched him go, both frustrated and shaken by what she'd managed to learn, and yet the mystery that was Dom Cobb hadn't been solved just yet, and she was determined to solve it._ 'One way or another, I'm going to figure out what it is you're hiding, and just maybe your projection of Mal won't cause anymore trouble for you or anyone else.'_

* * *

Over the next week, Ariadne worked on completing the mazes and taught them to the respective dreamers: with Yusuf, they constructed the first level of the dream to be in extensive city that would make Robert think he was in New York; with Arthur, they built a fancy hotel, and with Eames and Emma, after some extensive, and heated, debate over the type and design, a military-like hospital was created for the third level of the dream world. During all of this, Ariadne noted that, despite the seriousness of the job, the team still found ways to tease and prank each other, and it became fairly clear that the main victims of the jokes were usually Arthur, Emma, or both of them at the same time, and the one responsible was typically Eames.

She'd been going over the maze design with Yusuf when there was a crashing of metal and a splashing of water, followed by a yell and a startled cry; running into the main area, they discovered that a large pail of cold water had been placed on the edge of the doorframe, and the moment that Arthur and Emma had entered, they'd gotten soaked. Now Arthur was chasing Eames around the workshop, vowing to kill him, Cobb was laughing, Emma was furious, and Saito was looking like an exasperated parent having to deal with rough-housing children.

* * *

During one of the team's briefing sessions, Arthur brought up an issue concerning the three dream levels.

"My question is _how_ we go down three layers with enough stability?" he asked. "Even with two dreamers on the third level, the whole thing is stilling going to be unstable. Three layers down a little turbulence is gonna translate into an _earthquake_. The dreams are gonna collapse with the _slightest_ disturbance."

"He's right," Emma agreed. "It's hard enough to keep two dream levels stable, but three?"

Cobb had expected this to be brought up and so he nodded to Yusuf, who returned the nod.

"Sedation," he explained. "For sleep stable enough to create three layers of dreaming, will have to combine it with an extremely powerful sedative."

"How powerful?" Emma asked.

"Come over here and I'll show you," Yusuf requested and led them over to the makeshift lab that he'd set up in one part of the workshop. "I'll need an volunteer."

"Arthur," said Cobb and Eames at the same time, earning several surprised expressions, and a mild protest from Arthur himself.

"Why me?"

Instead of answering his question, Eames and Cobb made Arthur sit down in a chair next to a table holding one of the machines, and Yusuf strapped the tubes to his wrist; he then depressed the plunger, and they watched as the sedative flowed through the tubing and into Arthur, who instantly dropped off to sleep.

After a few minutes had passed, Yusuf reached out and slapped Arthur across the face… _hard_, and didn't get a reaction. "See?"

"Answers my question," Emma muttered, having winced at the sight of her husband being slapped so hard.

* * *

After waking back up and rubbing his sore cheek, Arthur and the rest of the team were back in the main area, where Yusuf continued explaining how the compound in the sedative would affect them in the dream world.

"The compound we'll be using to share the dream is an advanced Somnacin derivative," he explained. "It creates a _very_ clear connection between dreamers, whilst actually accelerating brain function."

"Buying us more time in each level," Cobb added for Ariadne since she had a confused expression on her face.

Yusuf nodded. "Brain function in the dream will be about twenty times normal," he explained. "And when you go into a dream within that dream the effect is compounded."

"How much time?" Ariadne asked, recalling that five minutes in the dream world equaled an hour.

"Three dreams," Yusuf answered, "that's ten hours, times twenty, times twenty, times twenty-"

"Math was never my strong suit," Eames interrupted, feeling a headache developing and both Emma and Arthur exchanged small smiles at his expense.

While Yusuf scowled, Cobb explained in less complex technical terms. "It's basically a week one layer down, six months two layers down-"

"And ten years in the third level," Ariadne realized, shocked. "Who wants to spend ten years in a dream?"

Yusuf shrugged. "Depends on the dream."

Eames noted the young woman's uneasy expression, and decided to reassure her. "It's not going to take us long to crack Fischer open once we get going," he pointed out. "We'll be out in a couple days, max."

Ariadne didn't look too convinced, but she didn't push the issue of how long it would take them to do the job, in both real time _and_ dream time.

"How do we get out once we've made the plant?" Arthur asked Cobb, tilting back in his chair slightly. "I hope you've got something a little more elegant in mind than shooting me and Emma in the head like last time."

Cobb didn't want a repeat of last time either, and had already had a basic idea of how to pull them out of all three dreams in one go…hopefully. "A kick."

"What's a kick?" Ariadne asked.

"This, Ariadne," said Eames, slipping his foot under one of the legs under Arthur's chair and pushed it up just enough, forcing Arthur to react in order to keep from falling backwards, "would be a kick." And smiled at the annoying look that the younger man was shooting at him.

"That feeling of falling which snaps you awake," Cobb explained, snapping his fingers. "We use that to jolt ourselves awake once we're done."

Emma and Arthur exchanged a look that said that they weren't convinced that a kick could work with the powerful sedative. "But how are we going to feel that through the sedation?"

Yusuf smiled and the couple realized that they were going to the ones to be demonstrated on. "That's the clever part. I customize the sedative to leave inner ear function unimpaired. That way, however deep the sleep, the sleeper will still feel falling…or tipping."

* * *

Minutes later, and a lot of pleading and protesting, both Arthur and Emma were hooked up to the machine and were asleep in two chairs; as Cobb, Saito, Ariadne, and Eames watched, Yusuf approached Arthur and, with a wicked grin, he pushed on both his chest and the chair backward. As the chair tipped backwards, Arthur snapped away and yelped as he crashed to the floor, and Eames chuckled at the younger man's sprawled form.

While Arthur grumbled and struggled to sit up, Yusuf went over to Emma and, with the same gleeful smile, he leaned her chair to one side; as the chair toppled, Emma woke up and she landed on the floor with a crash and a groan.

"Cobb, next time _you_ get to be tested on," Arthur growled as he and Emma freed themselves of the tubing, both feeling sore and embarrassed as the team returned to the main area.

Cobb just grinned, having learned early on not to take Arthur and Emma's threats too seriously, and then Emma pointed out something important, hoping that she and Arthur weren't going to be volunteered…again.

"Okay, so we know that it can work, but even that won't cut through three layers of deep sleep."

"That's true," Cobb agreed, having been thinking of different ways to make the kick work on all three levels. "The trick is to devise a kick for each level, then _synchronize_ them to get a snap that penetrates all three layers."

Arthur thought about that and realized what Cobb had in mind, and he knew how to make it work. "We can use the musical countdown to synchronize the different kicks."

"Musical countdown?" Ariadne repeated.

"One of the ways we can usually let each other know that time is nearly up in the real world is to put headphones on the head of the dreamer and play music," Emma explained. "And that also gives us a hint as to much time we have left, too."

Ariadne nodded. "I can see how that could work." And when she next went back into the dreams with the dreamers, they added in additional items that they would be able to use in order to trigger the kicks when the time was right, and while they did this, a new problem developed that they had to deal with.

Time.

* * *

While Ariadne and Arthur were busy working on a last few details for the hotel, the others were standing around the lobby, debating of how to get Robert Fischer under long enough so that they could make the plant.

"He's not scheduled for surgery, no dental, nothing," Eames reported, having just checked on Robert's upcoming schedule.

"I thought he had some knee thing?" Cobb asked.

"It's a minor fix up," Emma told him and Eames agreed.

"Nothing they'd put him under for," he added. "Besides, we need _at least_ a good ten hours."

"Sydney to Los Angeles," said Saito, and they looked at him. "Twelve hours and forty minutes – one of the longest flights in the world," he explained. "He makes it every two weeks."

* * *

At an private airfield, Robert got out of his limo and walked across the tarmac towards a dark gray Gulf Stream jet, accompanied by two aides.

_`"Surely he flies private?"`_ Cobb asked.

_`"Not if there were unexpected maintenance with his plane,"`_ Saito said slyly as a distraught flight officer met Robert at the steps and reported to him about the engine; disappointed, Robert nodded and turned away, heading back to his car with his aides on his heels.

* * *

Cobb considered this option when Arthur and Ariadne, having just completed the hotel, joined them.

"It'd have to be a 747," Arthur informed them.

"Why?" Cobb asked.

"On a 747 the pilots are up above, first class is in the nose so nobody walks through the cabin," Arthur explained. "We'd have to buyout the whole cabin, and the first class flight attendant-"

"I bought the airline," Saito announced and they all looked at him, surprised. "It seemed…neater."

"Neater, huh?" Cobb was impressed. "Well, now we have ten uninterrupted hours." He then nodded to Ariadne. "Nice lobby, by the way." And she smiled in response.

* * *

Later that same night in the real world, the workshop was empty, saved for Ariadne, who'd been cleaning up her work area, and she was heading out when she heard the hiss of the machine going and went to investigate; she wasn't surprised to see that Cobb was sleeping in a chair, hooked up to the machine, especially since she'd seen this going on for a while, and Yusuf had been there every time, too.

Realizing that there was no sign of the chemist, Ariadne walked over to the desk, set down her bag and coat, and sat down in the empty chair; pulling out some tubing, she checked the dials and then strapped the tubes to her wrist, dozing off instantly.

* * *

A/N: What will Ariadne find when she goes under? Just wait and see. R&R everyone!


	8. Chapter 8: COBB'S DREAMS

Inception: Dreams or Reality? Part 1

A/N: Here's the final chapter of this story and next week I'll start posting part two. I hope you all are enjoying this so far.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Inception_, _Batman,_ or _Doctor Who_. I only own the characters that I created.

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT: COBB'S DREAMS**

Soon, Ariadne found herself in an elevator moving downward and she watched the buttons as they lit up, noting that the very last one had a "B" on it, and then the elevator stopped with a jerk; pulling back the grill, she entered a bedroom that clearly belonged to a young girl.

Next to a window was a beautiful red dollhouse, and the front was slightly ajar; Ariadne opened it and found a safe, she tried the handle and saw that it was locked. Just then, there was a noise that startled her – turning, she saw a doorway that led into a different room, and she moved toward the doorway.

* * *

Peering inside, she saw that it was a living room and seated on a couch was Cobb and Mal, who was running her fingers through his hair. "You remember when you asked me to marry you?"

"Of course," Cobb whispered, entranced.

"You said you had a dream," said Mal, gently caressing his face.

"That we'd grow old together," Cobb concluded, leaning in closer to her, breathing in her perfume.

"And we can," Mal agreed, looking deeply into his eyes. "You know how to find me… you know what you have to do."

Cobb gently shook his head, not wanting to admit what it was that she wanted him to do – just then Mal stared directly at Ariadne, who jumped backward, alarmed at the cold, hostile stare.

Looking around and spotting Ariadne, Cobb quickly stood and hurried toward her, leaving Mal on the couch; grabbing the young woman's arm, he hustled her back over to the elevator. "You shouldn't be in here," he hissed, shoving her inside.

"I wanted to know what "tests" you need to do on your own every night," Ariadne pointed out as Cobb shut the grill and hit a button on the panel, causing the elevator to start rising upward.

"This has _nothing_ to do with you," Cobb muttered angrily, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

"This has _everything_ to do with me," Ariadne insisted. "You've asked me to share dreams with you."

Cobb sighed. "Not these," he stated. "These are _my_ dreams." At that moment, the elevator jerked to a stop, and Cobb pushed aside the grill, revealing a beach that stretched out into the distance; Mal was sitting on the sand with their children, and they were building a sandcastle together.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Ariadne asked as Cobb stepped out of the elevator, staring out at his family.

"This is the only way I can still dream," Cobb admitted, watching his wife and children with longing.

"Why is it so important to dream?" asked Ariadne, keeping an wary eye on Mal, who was currently unaware that they were there.

"In my dreams," Cobb said regretfully, "we're still together." That was when Mal just happened to look up at them, and he stepped back inside, shutting the grill once again, and he pushed a different button.

As the elevator began descending again, Ariadne frowned as she realized something about the dreams she was seeing. "But these aren't just dreams, are they?" she asked, worried. "They're memories. You said _never_ to use memories."

Cobb nodded, not happy about breaking his own rule. "And I shouldn't," he admitted.

"You're keeping her alive," Ariadne pointed out.

Cobb shook his head. "No."

Ariadne didn't believe him. "You can't let her go."

"No," Cobb repeated. "These are moments I _regret_. Moments I turned into dreams so I could change them."

Ariadne glanced at the button panel, eying the "B" button, and she moved her fingers toward it. "What've you got buried down there that you regret?" she asked, less then an inch away from touching the button.

Cobb swatted her hand away and pushed the third-floor button instead. "There's only one thing I need you to understand about me," he said seriously as the elevator stopped and he stepped out, Ariadne following him this time; now they were in a hallway of a house, and they were heading toward the kitchen.

"This is your house?" Ariadne asked.

Cobb nodded. "Mine and Mal's."

"Where is she?" Ariadne asked, keeping an wary eye out for the woman.

"She'd already died," Cobb told her as they entered the kitchen, where a tall thin man was standing next to the table with an envelope in his hand, and then there was a shout of laughter; he nodded toward the backyard, where James was sitting on the ground. "It's James. My boy," he explained. "He's found something. Maybe a worm."

At that moment, Philippa ran up and crouched next to her brother, and seeing her, Cobb smiled sadly. "And there's Philippa," he said wistfully. "I thought about calling out, so they'd turn and smile those incredible smiles…but I'm out of time-"

"Right now," the thin man insisted, thrusting the envelope into his hand. "Or never, Cobb."

Nodding, Cobb turned from the porch and took the envelope and opened it, revealing a plane ticket. "Then I panic that I'll always wish I'd seen them turn, that I can't waste this chance…" he turned back to call out to his kids, but their grandmother called to them first, and they ran away. "But the moment's passed. And whatever I do, the dream's always the same…When I'm about to call…they run."

Cobb was so focused on his missed chance that he didn't see Ariadne backing away toward the elevator. "If I'm going to see their faces again," he muttered, watching his children disappear around the corner. "I've got to get back here in the real world." And that was when Ariadne ran back inside the elevator and slammed the grill shut, making him turn around.

* * *

Breathing hard, Ariadne hit the basement button and the elevator resumed moving downward, as the elevator descended, she watched the different floors passing by, and she jumped backwards when a freight train thundered past; soon the elevator stopped again, this time revealing an elegant hotel suite.

Ariadne pulled aside the grill and stepped into the room, noting that it'd been upended, almost like there has been a fight or even _struggle_; she stepped forward and something cracked under her shoe, causing her to look down to see that she had stepped on a broken champagne flute.

When she looked back up, she felt a draught coming from a nearby open window, where the curtain was moving, and then she saw Mal, who was sitting on the couch in a sleeveless purple dress; when the older woman turned to look at her, she froze at the cold look.

"What are you doing here?" Mal asked coldly.

Ariadne swallowed, trying to keep down her fear. "My name is-" she began.

"I _know_ who you are," Mal cut in, standing up. "What are you doing here?" she repeated, moving around the couch toward her.

"I don't know," Ariadne admitted, breathing hard. "Trying to understand."

"How could you understand?" Mal asked coldly, walking around the young woman, who was shaking with barely controlled fear. "Do you know what it is to be a lover?" she hissed, leaning in close. "To be half of a _whole_?"

Ariadne shook her head. "No."

"I'll tell you a riddle," said Mal, facing her. "You're waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away." She turned and walked toward a small table that had a broken lamp and broken glass on it. "You know where you hope this train will take you, but you don't know for sure." She then faced Ariadne. "But…it _doesn't matter_," she concluded, leaning down and she picked up a broken champagne flute, gripping it tightly. "How can it not matter to you where that train will take you?"

"Because you'll be together," said Cobb, stepping out of the elevator, and both women looked at him.

Mal glared at him. "How could you bring her here, Dom?" she demanded.

"What is this place?" Ariadne asked, her voice shaking.

"A hotel," Cobb responded, keeping his eyes fixed on his wife. "We spent our anniversaries in this suite."

"What happened here?" Ariadne asked, referring to the wreck room; at that moment, Mal charged forward and Cobb grabbed Ariadne's arm, shoving her into the elevator, slamming the grill shut and locked it just as the crazed women threw herself at it repeatedly, trying to get inside, and Ariadne huddled against the back wall, cringing.

"_You promised!_" Mal screamed, yanking against the grill, her eyes and hair wild. "_You said we'd be together!_"

"We can," Cobb promised tearfully. "We will. But I need you to stay here for now-"

"_You said we'd grow old together!_" Mal screamed, not really listening.

"I'll come back," Cobb repeated, pushing a button on the panel and the elevator began moving upward. "I need you to stay here on your own for now. Just while I do this job. Then we can be together…" and he watched, heartbroken, as Mal continued to glare up at him, half of her face covered by hair, her eyes wide with cold fury.

* * *

Waking up, Ariadne removed the tubes from her wrist and watched Cobb, whose eyes slowly flickered open. "You _think_ you can just build a prison of _memories_ to lock her in?" she demanded angrily as he sat up. "You think that's going to _contain_ her?"

Before Cobb could say anything, Arthur, Emma, and Saito entered the workshop, and Arthur turned the lights on.

"It's time," Saito announced. "Maurice Fischer just died in Sydney." The moment he received word, he'd tracked down the other team members to alert them and, discovering that both Cobb and Ariadne weren't at their lofts, he had convinced Arthur and Emma, they hadn't been thrilled at being woken up so early, to come with him to the workshop in order to let them know.

"When's the funeral?" Cobb asked, removing the tubes and stood up.

"Thursday," Saito answered. "In Los Angeles."

"Robert will accompany the body no later then Tuesday," Arthur added. "We have to move."

"It looks to be our only chance," Emma agreed.

Cobb nodded, rolled up the tubing, and then turned to the machine, putting it away, and turning it off.

"I'm coming with you," Ariadne whispered to him so that the other wouldn't hear; that experience down in the dream had her convinced that whatever Cobb was hiding, it was getting worse, and she had to do something about it before it was too late.

Cobb shook his head, remembering his promise to his father-in-law. "No," he whispered back, noting that Arthur and Emma were writing in their notebooks, while Saito was watching him closely. "I promised Miles."

"The team _needs_ someone in there who understands what you're struggling with," Ariadne insisted. "If you don't want it to be me then you _need_ to show Arthur and Emma what I just saw."

Cobb stared at her, surprised, and he could easily imagine what would happen _if_ he was to show Arthur and Emma what he was dreaming about, especially if they were to cross paths with Mal; sighing, he turned to Saito. "We need one more seat on the plane." And he closed the case.

They had _a lot_ to do and _very_ little time to do it in.

* * *

A/N: And so ends part one of this story. See you all next week for the beginning of part two. R&R everyone!


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